


Rage, rage against the dying of the light

by AzureAngel2



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Kindergarten & Pre-school, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Canon Divergence - Revenge of the Sith, Pre-Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2018-08-12 16:19:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 113,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7941088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzureAngel2/pseuds/AzureAngel2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if somebody had been allowed to survive the massacre on board of the Palpatine family yacht so many decades ago?</p>
<p>What if this person was a chocolate loving creature that has green fingers, is into kindergarten teaching and gets herself into trouble by being a silly chitter chatter box at time?</p>
<p>What if her uncle loves her anyway, despite being busy to erect his own sith empire and looking for a new apprentice?</p>
<p>What if Sheev would be stupid enough to sacrifice the love of a niece for power, unlimited power?</p>
<p>Is the result a Bollywood movie like drama? A vicious psycho thriller with people enjoying food preparation? A constant cameo show for Star Wars characters? A Hitchhiker's Guide through a galaxy far, far away? Or is it just boring self-insert from a fanfic writer?</p>
<p>Where does botchy literature end and real life begin?</p>
<p>Has the German hobby writer even learned enough English over the past twenty eight years to be allowed to enter this honourable platform?</p>
<p>Judge yourself!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Prologue:**

If it had not been for her flaming red hair, he would not have noticed her. She was but a plain kitchen maid of about sixteen years of age, just an average face in the mass of household servants.

Besides, he had no interest in females, no matter what species they belonged to. And he was certainly not into males either. Above all he craved power and knowledge. Through the latter, he had observed, he was able to steer single individuals at times.

Mandré Antigone Vané Dorje seemed to be a figure that he could use. And so he started watching her from the shadows.

Hours transformed into days.

Soon, days turned to weeks.

Weeks became a series of months.

Even though Mandré had friends among the other staff members, she preferred to stay on her own most of the time. During her breaks she liked to spend her time as far away from the Palpatine property as possible. She would lie down in a meadow and gaze at the clouds passing by in the sky. Or she would sit by the lake, her eyes fixed on the water.

During one occasion he found out why Mandré was so quiet and withdrawn from the world now and again. His father had private sessions with her, too. He was not as privileged as he had thought. That was an unexpected surprise and he did not know what to make of it.

Judging Mandré’s body language, she got hurt by his father in regions that were not to detect easily. Her service gowns covered all the bruises and cuts from the whip, but he knew them to be there. From his own life-long experiences he also could tell how each inflicted wound felt.

He did not feel pity for Mandré. But the curiosity within him rose. Why she get that special treatment, too? She was a nobody. The regular abuse turned her into somebody of means. Not only for his father, but for him as well. He decided to find out who exactly she was.

But there was not much to say about Mandré. She was an orphan that got born a couple of months after him. Her birth certificate at least said so.

He dug deeper and deeper, but there was nothing of significance about Mandré apart from her cooking skills. And that red mane of hers, that was so much like his own.

Frustration turned him moody until he got leverage on Mandré from an unexpected source. It was the way she drew in her breath. How her skin shone. There was an entire story underneath her clothing.

One afternoon he caught Mandré in the kitchen garden, collecting salad leaved for dinner.

It was a golden autumn day. The sun stood high in the sky.

Mandré knelt in the Black Rampion, also known as _"Rapunzel"_ here in Theed. Somewhat feverishly, she dug out a bulb. A keen little rodent, driven by instinct. Before she could bite in, he rose his voice.

“You are not really consuming that, are you?” he asked more harshly that he intended to.

Startled, Mandré dropped the bulb and rose to her feet.

“If you crave a plant like that, you must indeed be pregnant.”

Horrified, she looked at him, her hand flew to her mouth. “Milord, I...”

“I am not here to judge you, but let me break with one Naboo tradition. Who is the father?”

Her panic increased.

“This is all I want to know. And I should know as heir of House Palpatine, don’t you think?”

She was as pale as an eopie now. “Are you assuming that His Lordship...?”

“Is Cosinga the father of your child?” he pressed on.

Suddenly, Mandré laughed. It was a hysteric laugh and he gazed towards the house, wondering if anybody could hear that sound from there.

When he was about to scold her, her round face turned serious again.

“Your father is capable of cruelty beyond imagination, but he would not share the pillow with a child of his,” she said.

It took him a couple of heartbeats to grasp the meaning of her words. “You are my sister?” he bit out.

She nodded, sad and embarrassed alike.

“I have a half-sister who is a kitchen maid.” This revelation was as startling as it was hilarious. But it was also strangely liberating. He – Sheev Aurelius Cosinga Palpatine – was not the only unwanted offspring of his father.

Suddenly, there was an obstacle. “He does not know yet, does he?”

Tears shimmered in her eyes. “If he comes to know about the child, he will kill it.”

Perhaps it was boredom speaking. He was not sure, but suddenly he had a new focus in life. To protect the unborn deep inside his half-sister.

“Then we need to make sure that he never does. Together.”

It was not the way of the Sith, but it felt right to give the child a chance.

 

 

**Chapter 1:**

The first alarm goes off. It is my LCD screen, tuned to a local radio station. The tunes of a so-called 'oldie' fill the air.

 _“Leave me out with the waste_  
_This is not what I do_  
_It's the wrong kind of place_  
_To be thinking of you_

 _It's the wrong time_  
_For somebody new_  
_It's a small crime_  
_And I got no excuse_

 _And is that aright? Yeah_  
_Give my gun away when it's loaded_  
_That aright? Yeah_  
_If you don't shoot it how am I supposed to hold it?_

 _That alright? Yeah_  
_Give my gun away when it's loaded_  
_That aright? Yeah, with you?_

 _Leave me out with the waste_  
_This is not what I do_  
_It's the wrong kind of place_  
_To be cheating on you_

 _It's the wrong time_  
_She's pulling me through_  
_It's a small crime_  
_And I got no excuse_

 _And is that alright? Yeah_  
_To give my gun away when it's loaded_  
_(Is that alright with you?)_  
_That alright? Yeah_  
_If you don't shoot it how am I supposed to hold it?_  
_(Is that alright with you?)_

 _Is that alright? Yeah_  
_If I give my gun away when it's loaded_  
_(Is that alright with you?)_  
_Is that alright_  
_Is that alright with you?_

 _That alright? Yeah_  
_If I give my gun away when it's loaded_  
_(Is that alright with you?)_  
_Is that alright? Yeah_  
_You don't shoot it how am I supposed to hold it?_  
_(Is that alright with you?)_

 _That alright? Yeah_  
_If I give my gun away when it's loaded_  
_(Is that alright with you?)_  
_Is that alright?_  
_Is that alright with you?_

 _And is that alright? Yeah_  
_(To give my gun away when it's loaded)_  
_Is that alright? Yeah_  
_(You don't shoot it how am I supposed to hold it?)_

 _And is that alright? Yeah_  
_(To give my gun away when it's loaded)_  
_Is that alright? Is that alright?_  
_Is that alright with you? No”_

I feel my husband Barin beside me. “Almost there,” I smile without turning around.

“Sure, _min larel_!” I hear him answer, his voice drenched with irony. _My darling!_

The old Corellian scoundrel knows that I am not a morning person. This comes with being a follower of the ancient moon goddess of my people – the Naboo – I guess.

Yawning, I stay in bed and cling on to my pillow.

I still have not put up any curtains in my bedroom. This suits my inner clock better.

Besides, a Coruscant dawn is a breathtaking sight to behold. It gives the planet-wide city moments of grace and beauty. For some heartbeats there are no grey steel  
constructions, no industrial pollution, no rigid class system- just the rosy fingers of light stretching and flexing. A sea of serenity and calm that not even the traffic can  
harm.

Yet the blessing of brightness does not reach certain areas of the actual planet-wide metropolis. The lower levels are plunged in darkness. The twilight of the neon  
signs are not enough to illuminate the minds and hearts of the people who live down there.

As most members of the middle class I live at the edge of the abyss. We seldom mix with what is below or above. Literacy and democracy matter to us, not money and power. We believe in life-long learning, are even social to our enemies and all those who try to drag us into the shadows.

I turn around to face Barin, but the pillow next to me is empty.

Sometimes I forget that he is gone. How foolish of me!

It has been three years now that the Separatists took him from me, murdered him.

 _“Rage, rage against the dying of the light,”_ I mutter.

It is a line from one of my most favourite poems. Since my husband's death it has become a sort of Force mantra to me.

The sound of the second alarm – my comm – makes me rise, but not shine. I walk straight into my tiny bathroom unit. Soon sonic pulse vibrations remove dirt, grime and my weariness.

********************************************************************

After the brief shower, I feel more like a human being again. I smile at myself in the mirror. “Good morning, Nagina!” I say. “There you are.”

Wrapped in a towel, I leave the bathroom unit and return into my bedroom. There I put on a scarlet tunic and a pair of sneakers.

Luckily, there is no dress code at the kindergarten. There was one in the last place that I worked for.

I love my current work. My team of fellow teachers is brilliant. The location is a dream: much greenery which is rare here on Coruscant.

I go back into the bathroom and bring my brown hair in order as much as possible. My magnificent head of hair is what I always liked best about me. But I do not force it into weird buns, topknots, bobs or chignons like Padmé Amidala does.

With my 1.65 meters I am but one centimetre smaller than the very popular Naboo senator and ex-queen. But to my shame I weigh almost double than the frail  
politician. I must stop eating before I start looking like some Hutt overlord.

Sighing, I enter the kitchen and walk straight to the refrigeration unit. I open it and my hand moves towards the blue milk. But then I think better of it and reach for the chocolate milk container.

I heat my drink while listening to more songs of the local radio station – Radio Coruscant. In between they are interrupted by dire news from the front line.

A third alarm goes off. It is personal text message from my colleague Shakti.

_“Remember the observation files! You need to talk to some parents soon. Let us check out the data together. Hugxxx”_

Cursing, I put down my mug.

I will be seriously late for work if I stand around here glued to my hot chocolate and Anakin Skywalker, “the Hero With No Fear”. The mug bears his illustration. I got it in a cheap gift shop recently, when I looked up something for my kindergarten group. The children love him as much as I do, but for totally different reasons.

With forty I should be ashamed anyway falling for a much, much younger man. Besides, he is no match to Barin, my deceased husband.

Quickly, I clean the mug that is smeared with the evidence of my not-so-secret chocolate addiction.

“Come to the dark side!” I smirk. “For we have all the chocolate.”

My uncle Sheev Aurelius Cosinga Palpatine would strongly disagree here. He leads a rather austere life. With no chocolate in it.

********************************************************************

As I walk out of my building complex I carefully scan my surroundings. In my neighbourhood we have some jokers selling death sticks just opposite the building  
complex that I live in.

The dealers are a street gang of fourteen kids. The youngest one is eleven and the oldest one is barely seventeen. I can see them quite clearly each time when I look  
out of the living-room window. Nine humans, a Wookiee whose gender I do not know, a Miraluka female, a Nagai male and a species that I cannot name. But the life form is definitely male, has green skin and an ape-like face.

Anyway, to me the gang has not done any harm with their electric tasers. Not yet.

Praying to the Goddess of Safety or even to divine Shiraya herself just buys me precious time. I have this ugly certainty: Sooner or later I will have another near-death experience. I had one when I was three years of age. The next one with five.

There is no sign of the youth gang to be seen.

I walk on, spotting familiar faces here and there.

My next door neighbour walks by, her pittin running ahead of her happily. I wave at them and while I do so, I walk straight into another pedestrian.

Very artfully, I drop my bag, which does me the unwanted favour of opening immediately. The lunch box, my water bottle, a story book and a myriad of children paintings spread all over the pavement. And I join them. I end up on my back with my legs spread wide.

But instead of killing me three times over, the tall Falleen just sweetly smiles at me. He wears an exclusive robe, which proves he does not live in this area. “Excuse me, milady!” he booms with a deep voice. “I am deeply sorry. I did not see you coming.”

Dizzy from the intense gaze of his lavender eyes, I run a hand over my now reddened face.

“If you would allow me to help you out of this unfortunate situation, milady.”

I nod – perplexed at the huge, yet well manicured claws that dangle before me.

The exact moment we touch, his green skin turns into orange-scarlet.

I blink hastily.

“Are you alright, milady?” he asks.

A wet tongue touches my left ankle.

I yelp and this sound gets answered happily by the over-excited pittin that is at my side suddenly. So is my neighbour, his Twi'lek mistress.

“Nagina?” Aola Auyapgajo pipes up, visibly anxious as her twitching lekku tell me. “Shall I walk you back into the house and call a Jedi healer?”

The eyes of the Falleen darken for a brief heartbeat at the word “Jedi”.

“No, I am okay,” I manage to say. “But I am running late for the kindergarten.”

“Ah,” the Falleen muses and his facial colour deepens. “You are a caretaker. How nice. It must be fulfilling to work with the little ones. Shiny, happy faces all day long.”

I am not sure what to say so I grin like some sort of idiot instead of rolling my eye.

Aola watches the Falleen nervously, especially when he says, “Let me give you a ride to your working place.”

I know better than to have a ride with a total stranger. “No, thank you,” I speak with as much dignity as I can muster. “There is my ride already.”

The Falleen does not gaze at the public transporter as I do. He bows deeply, his eyes still lingering on me. “Take good care, milady. I am sure we meet again.”

With the elegance of his reptile race, the Falleen disappears into the now somewhat busier traffic. His pony tail makes a bobbing movement.

My neighbour reaches out for my cheek. “You look as if you have seen death itself, child.”

“That was Prince Xizor,” I stutter.

Aola usually has bright pinkish skin. Now it looks somewhat paler. As a Twi'lek woman she has heard about him. “Are you sure?”

“The Force is my witness,” I get out.

The public transporter honks at us. The passengers inside look cross with me. “Please join us!” calls the somewhat desperate pilot. “We are running behind schedule.”

Aola and I exchange a quick look of concern. Public transporters never wait for any individual. I have a bad feeling about this.

********************************************************************

My face is flushed and I sweat like a Tusken Raider under his desert robes. If looks could kill, I would be dead by now. There is not a single passenger on-board who  
feels any sympathy for me.

“I have no clue who you are, lady,” growls a dishevelled looking human, “But I will remember your face. Next time we meet, you are bantha poodoo.”

I do not wish to argue with him. All I want is to be out of this transporter.

As I pass the pilot on my way out, I notice that his pupils are widened. Fear stands written all over his bearded face.

“I am sorry,” I whisper.

“You better be, muppet,” an elderly lady complains. “I hate favouritism. Your daddy must be in flight control.”

The fact is that my father is dead. So is my mother.

I am an orphan since I am three years old.

Ever since my uncle took care of me. In secret.

The express transporter is already there and I flee inside like a scared nerf.

I bury my nose straight into my book pad, wishing that I would possess a holoband. Or would at least carry headphones with me so I could drown it all out – the past, the present and the future.

********************************************************************

The flight is quick because it does not stop until I reach the level where the kindergarten is. One of my children spots me and calls out my name in adoration.

I pause my steps, look at little Beaplli and his mother. They are both Muun. So was Hego Damask, the magistrate of Damask Holdings. I give my best not to flinch at the very thought of him.

“How good of you to be at work at least fifteen minutes before your shift starts, my dear Nagina,” the tall Muun woman beams. “I love punctuality. It is a virtue.”

Right now, I do not feel very virtuous. Of course my uncle cannot leave my life alone. He cannot fully steer it, but he can interfere. Traffic control. Imagine that!

My thoughts are interrupted by a happy voice. “Look, I made an Obi-Wan painting!”

Beaplli waves hastily with his art work, while his mother smirks with slight displeasure. She cannot stop her son adoring a Jedi who has fought against her people. But she respects his preferences and affections as long as he does not let her down. Mathematics and statistics are essential for the Muun.

“Why does Obi-Wan carry two light sabres into battle?” I inquire carefully.

“That looks more symmetrical,” Beaplli is happy that I noticed his addition. “He also can fight better with two sabres.”

“And pray, why are they red?”

“Blue is boring. Green looks ill.”

“I like boring,” I say, my voice soft as I remember the massacre on the Palpatine family yacht that I survived.

Beaplli frowns at me, but then he grins. “This is because you are a care taker.”

His mother holds her breath, insulted by her son's conclusion. I am not.

“Caretakers are boring for you?” I shoot back. “Fancy that.”

“You are different,” Beaplli explains quickly and tucks at my tunic with his pale hand.

“I love you, too,” I whisper and earn a happy beam from him.

The metal security gate opens when I hold my identity card against it.

We all walk through it together.

“Thank you for working with him.” His mother looks relieved. “You and your co-teachers are angels.”

I would like to tell the friendly Muun that I am more of a gate keeper.

We Naboo have a legend about six impenetrable gates that hold back chaos. House Palpatine is one of those gates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> “Do not go gentle into that good night”, a poem by the Welsh poet and writer Dylan Thomas (1914 – 1953)  
> Song “9 crimes” by the Irish musician and song-writer Damien Rice  
> LucasFilm – now of course, owned by Disney  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

My colleague Shakti Treboh, a human from Ansion, is happy to see me. Like me she is early.

I hang up my bag in the closet and change into my slippers. Our kindergarten is like a second home for the children. So my only real dress code is to wear slippers inside the building.

Something or better to say someone collides with my legs. I look down and look into a pair of jade green eyes.

“Hello!” crows Mara happily and beams up at me with her round face.

The two-year-old is our youngest student. We take in children from all species. Our only requirement is that they have to be between two years and six years of age.

I pat her head, enjoying the feeling of her frizzy red hair under my palm. “Hello there, too!”

She holds up a Master Yoda puppet. “Look!”

Her mother, also a brunette, shrugs bashfully. “Mara has loved that little green guy since she saw him on the holo news. What can you do? So I made this.”

I swallow any reprimand. If Mara's mother regards the powerful and wise Jedi master as a little green guy, so be it. He probably would laugh about it. My uncle once told me that Yoda has a quirky humour and loves working with the younglings of the Jedi order.

Mara babbles something unintelligible and starts dancing around me, with the Yoda puppet clenched to her chest.

Lucius, a blond human boy, walks by and says, “General Skywalker is way cooler, silly.”

Mara stops dancing, her little face suddenly transformed into a mask of concentration. Then she announces, “Do not like Skywalker. He silly.”

The preschooler looks angry, but then his best friend Jalen, a brown haired human, places a hand on his shoulder. “If Mara does not like Skywalker, then leave her be.”

“But Skywalker is mightier than Master Yoda,” Lucius sulks. “They say he has much more Midi-Chlorians in his blood.”

“Skywalker stupid,” insists Mara with the dignity of a little queen. “Yoda clever.”

Jalen laughs heartily. “You cannot force anybody to like Master Skywalker.”

“Yeah, says the absolute Obi-Wan fan,” complains his friend, while Mara strolls away, singing under her breath.

“Who do you prefer, Nagina?” Jalen asks me somewhat provoking.

I grin carefree. “I prefer good boys getting the breakfast trolley.”

For a split second Jalen makes a face, but then he reaches out for Lucius and drags him along. They run down the corridor, where Erisi, our female Besalik cook, already waits for them.

Mara's mother seizes the opportunity and steps closer to me. “Nagina, have there been any...” she hesitates, not sure how to formulate her nagging question.

I know exactly what ails her. “Mara is a sweet girl. The other children do not wonder in the least about toys hovering through the air. Due to the war reporting from the front lines, talents of the Jedi Knights are a normal sight for the children.”

The relief of the tall brunette is visible.

“Besides,” I continue, “I do not wish the Jedi Order to spot her potential either. I find it very cruel to take babies and toddlers away from their parents. Children need to bond and grow with their family.”

The tall brunette sniffs, her eyes filled with tears.

Before I can step aside I am trapped in a strong Wookiee-like hug that almost crushes my ribs. Mara's mother works for a security company as a bodyguard. I wonder what would happen to me if she was an assassin instead.

Lucius and Jalen come back with the trolley. It is time to gather the rest of my group that is still with the kindergarten teachers from the early shift.

****************************************************************

The breakfast is mostly uneventful. There are the usual little quarrels about the food – friendly and, let us be honest, pointless.

Shakti and I are watchful.

And of course there is the typical citter chatter of our children. Since the Clone Wars have started it is about the names of the battle fields, the heroic acts of the Jedi, the bravery of the clones.

“Mace Windu is not cool. Who has a purple light sabre anyway?” - “Blue is so ordinary.” - “But green looks like puke.” - “Make it yellow.” - “There are no yellow light sabres, nerfherder.”

“I like Cody best! He is fearless and clever. Rex is okay, but Cody...” - “Rex could strike Cody down in no time.” - “Oh yeah?”

“When I am grown, I will marry Ahsoka Tano.” - “But you wanted to marry me and Nyota...” - “Sorry. You have no lekku.”

“One Skywalker sticker for seven Obi-Wan stickers...” - “Are you crazy? What sort of deal is that? Is your father a Toydarian?” - “No, he's a former Corellian smuggler!” - “Yuck!”

After a while, Shakti and I get tired of listening. She leans in to me confidentially. “Hey, beauty!” she jokes.

“This had better be about the educational program of our beloved senate,” I say with a huge grin.

“Nope.” My colleagues grin is almost as wide as mine. “We have a date for you, my husband and I.”

I try to stay calm in front of the children, but one of the framed paintings starts vibrating.

“Nagina, you silly bantha cow,” I reprimand myself as the painting sails towards the floor. “Stay right in the middle. Between serenity and chaos. The middle way.”

Shakti picks the frame up. Luckily, it is unbreakable glass. “Oh, I thought I really fixed that blasted gallery board yesterday.”

“Blasted is a bad word.” Beaplli shivers visibly with disgust.

“Really?” Shakti replies sharply. “Fancy that!”

While she puts the painting back, I try to find a more neutral expression for my face.

Little Mara looks at me knowingly. With a sweet smile she puts her hand on mine. I can feel her brain buzzing. “Middle,” she babbles. “Find middle.”

I take a deep breath, do my best not to flinch away from the two year old. “Thanks, Shak, I really appreciate your effort.” I start stroking Mara's head with my free hand. But I have a busy schedule the next two weeks.”

Shakti does not look convinced at all. “Rowan is a nice guy. You should give him a try.”

As I open my mouth for a reprimand the entrance door opens likewise.

Silence falls.

The children stare ahead with their eyes wide open.

Rowan is history before he even had the chance to meet me at all.

My very unlikely rescue team has arrived. I recognize my uncle's body guards before I can set eyes on him.

Usually our lives do not intermingle in public like this. I rise from the table, giving my best not to fall apart with joy or fear. “Let the games begin,” I breathe, sending a silent prayer to Shiraya.

****************************************************************

Shakti is on the brink of passing out. As if Sheev is a womaniser like Prince Xixor. “The... chan... chan,” she yelps. “Here.”

Some of the children start waving at the man they know so well from the holo news.

“Ah,” my uncle begins and gives us his most winning smile. The one he usually reserves just for me in a much more private setting. “Good morning, children!”

“Good morning!” they echo, their eyes bright.

“I hope you still have some breakfast for me,” Sheev gives into consideration. His voice is cool and clear, like a stream over smooth stones. It reminds me of the shores of Convergence back on Naboo.

“You can have my blue milk,” suggests Jalen helpfully.

“I get back to you about that, my young friend.” My uncle steps towards me. His face gives nothing away of his true feelings. “Mistress Samye, I presume.”

“Supreme Chancellor,” I reply politely.

“I am so sorry for barging in on you like this.” His handshake is electric, his eyes manic blue. “But I was on my way to a senate meeting when my pilot passed this charming kindergarten.”

I want to point out that he should get a city map of Corruscant. The senate district is not anywhere close to this place. But the feel of his hand in mine calms me down. I am with family now.

A kind of blissful relaxation rolls through my body. We always had this effect on one another.

Sly Moore glides in, giving me a shiver as usual. The tall Umbaran serves Sheev as his senior administrative aide. Zealously, she guards his secrets, but about me she is very much mistaken. She believes me to be his mistress and she could not be any more wrong.

My uncle has been the centre point of my childhood. It was him who helped my mother, his illegitimate half-sister, to give birth to me. He shielded me from Cosinga Nero Animus Palpatine – his abusive father and my grandfather – as much as humanly possible. His affection for me was always deep and tender. Nothing acted out, nothing planned.

After the massacre on the family yacht he hid me from his dark Sith master – Darth Plageius – and raised me in secret.

Sly Moore does not know any of that and Sheev would never correct her dirty assumptions of me. He simple does not wish anyone in the universe to find out the nature of our relationship.

My uncle drinks blue milk. He has some shuura fruit from Naboo and some local vegetable. I have to look at him over and over again. He really has breakfast with my kindergarten group.

The last time I felt this detached from reality was the day my husband died. I had stayed numb for many weeks afterwards. Right now, I feel strangely alive though. I sense everything in the group room with startling clarity: the dance between light and shadow, the excitement of the children having the Supreme Chancellor among us, the smooth surface of the breakfast table, the displeasure of Sly Moore, the heat of my tea mug and the nervousness of my teacher colleague.

And there is something else in the back of my mind. Mara shines in the Force like she has never shone before. The Kaiburr crystal incarnate.

I take her little hand into my own, pray for her that Sheev is too busy to notice how special she is.

My own Force powers are not strong enough to cover her up like a safety blanket. I am not good at deceit and masquerades. My uncle became a specialist instead. One of us had to be. Once he told me that I was stronger than him, more upright. There was no envy or greed when he said that. It was just a fact, shared between us.

Mara's hand is so soft and pliable like I was once under my grandfather's administrations.

I should not visit the past like this. It is a dangerous place to be. Besides, I am the total opposite of Sheev. While he plunged into never-ending night, I ran towards the light. Yet we have a shared history of pain, an eternal bond. We are both survivors of House Palpatine. For the better or the worse.

My eyes scan his face. He prematurely ages by years of calling on dark powers. In his youth he was such a handsome man. Back then, I thought he looked like one of the winged guardians who brought our people to Naboo.

My uncle is very aware of his choices. There is no insanity driving him. He is not a psychopath nor is he split into various personalities. The helpless child he once was craved for power and found it in unnatural sources. He will enslave the entire galaxy to make sure that he never is crushed by another being again.

I sigh and drink a bit from my own blue milk.

All the candour Sheev shows the children is true. But it is not directed at them, but at me. He agrees with me and my lifestyle, even though I am committed to education of young ones like a Jedi knight. There is no wish he would like to turn down. He always wanted the best for me, even when the darkness in him grows like a cancer. Since the death of Darth Plagious more than ever.

I never asked what occurred between the two of them. Not that I was afraid of it. It is not my place to know. If my uncle wanted me to know, he would have told me. I am aware that there is no trust, loyalty and love between a Sith lord and his apprentice.

I possess a place in my Sheev's withered heart that is unheard of in the history of predecessors. Due to me he has been able to be like an older brother and a parent all at once.

My eyes cannot help to search his, for I want to know what brings him here, to the most unlikely place possible. He is a war monger, the destroyer of worlds. A master of puppets that hides secret plans within more secret plans.

“Would you like to join our morning circle, Supreme Chancellor?” I ask him, immediately getting the darkest of looks from Sly Moore.

“That would please me very much,” my uncle smiles, before his aid can point out how overcrowded his time schedule is. For me he will take time. Right now nothing else in the universe matters to him. Not even the war that he started out there.

********************************************************************

We all clean the table after breakfast and brush our teeth in the little bath room next to our group room. Then we all get pillows and form a circle.

Sheev winks at me for a short heartbeat. He is reminded of the hideouts we had on Naboo. When we went to the grassland to have a secret picknick, he would take a pillow for me. These days he is very far away from the innocent pleasures of our common childhood.

The morning circle starts with a song. It leaves my lips with ease and infects the children with joy.

_“Twinkle, twinkle, little star,_   
_How I wonder what you are._   
_Up above the world so high,_   
_Like a diamond in the sky._   
_Twinkle, twinkle, little star,_   
_How I wonder what you are!_

_When the blazing sun is gone,_   
_When there's nothing he shines upon,_   
_Then you show your little light,_   
_Twinkle, twinkle, through the night._   
_Twinkle, twinkle, little star,_   
_How I wonder what you are!_

_In the dark blue sky so deep_   
_Through my curtains often peep_   
_For you never close your eyes_   
_Til the morning sun does rise_   
_Twinkle, twinkle, little star_   
_How I wonder what you are_

_Twinkle, twinkle, little star_   
_How I wonder what you are”_

They sing along like they always do. Despite the stranger in their midst. The powerful politician who has chosen to come to this place of learning in a time of war. A Sith lord so perfectly hidden in the open, that even the Jedi Order is blind to his presence.

I was always good at singing and memorizing things. This is perhaps why my uncle sought out for somebody like Sly Moore. But he bent and twisted her beyond recognition, something he never dared to do with me. For reasons only known to him, he left me as I was.

Shakti takes over from me. “Today something is different, is it not?” she addresses the children.

They all go, “Yeah!”

“So what is different then?” my colleague continues.

“The Chancellor!” beams Beaplli.

Uninvited, my uncle takes over. “But I am not so different from you, children. I am a person. And I have dreams and fears like you.”

I blink. He is not really speaking to the children. His words are for me. Only for me. Is this a kind of good-bye.

Before I can ponder on it, little Mara leaves her pillow and scuttles over to him. Her speed is amazing. I cannot hinder her. Like a queen she thrones on his lap, her small face looking up at him. Is it possible that she realizes his hurt like I always did?

Suddenly, a male Chagrian in expensive garments rushes in. Mas Amedda should be in the senate and not anywhere near us. “Supreme Chancellor...” he starts.

Anger flickers over my Sheev's face, but then his features glide back into pleasant composure. “What ever it is, it can wait. The children and I are in the middle of something.”

“But the Separatists...”

He raises a dismissive hand. “Not here, not now.”

Sly Moore starts shoving her colleague aside, pushes him wordlessly towards the entrance.

“This dreadful war weighs heavy on me.” My uncle fully focuses on the children again. “It has been a time since I played some fun games. Do you happen to know any?”

Of course they do and they start babbling all at the same time.

********************************************************************

Throughout the morning circle little Mara stays on Sheev's lap. Now and then his hands wander through her red locks.

It is not jealousy that I feel. It is sheer panic, but I keep it well masked.

My uncle stays the entire morning, taking part in the other group activities that follow the morning circle. He observes pictures being painted the old fashioned style. He watches complex buildings rising on the carpet. He gazes at role plays mirroring the battlefields of our galaxy.

Even though I know he avoids looking at little Mara too long and too much, I know he is still smitten by her. And that worries me. The last little girl he took in was Sly Moore. A mercy kill would have been a better idea for the Umbaran.

After lunch Sheev first takes his leave from Shakti, then he turns to me. His hand feels right in mine. It echoes the thousand times it did before. The sad moments, the fun ones. **“Tonight,”** he speaks straight into my mind. **“In your place.”**

“Supreme Chancellor,” I say aloud. “It was a pleasure having you here.”

“Oh no, Mistress Samye. The pleasure was truly on my side.” He pats little Mara, who sniffs against his robe. “Hush, little one! All will be well.”

He speaks to both of us. I am not a fool.

Mas Amedda pokes his large head in again.

“There must be always time for politeness and good manners. The Republic owes women like Mistress Treboh and Mistress Samye a lot. Even in dark, desperate times they keep a light on. Look at all those happy children.”

I do my best to decipher a lie, but I do not. My uncle is truly happy that I do my work, even though it opposes all that he is.

“There is an old legend on Naboo,” he muses. “There are six impenetrable gates that hold back chaos.”

“House Palpatine is one of those gates,” Sly Moore cuts in, even though it is totally out of place. She glares at me in displeasure. “You seem to know about it, Mistress Samye.”

“I read a lot,” I prompt, which is not a total lie.

“You are from Naboo, too, are you not?” she goes on, sending shivers down my spine.

Now Sheev has to interfere without losing his countenance. It costs him enormous strength. I can tell that. And so can Sly Moore. She is sorry, but that will not help her once they are alone in his private chambers. His anger is like a whirlwind of doom.

“Mistress Samye is Corellian, which can be clearly heard in her refined accent.” He looks at her with kind eyes. “Are you losing your sharp wits? I hope that I do not need to find a new assistant.”

My uncle says it like a joke, but it is a threat. In trying to solve the riddle that is me, she risked too much. Like Darth Maul, his unfortunate apprentice, she might get replaced any time soon.

I am so glad that little Mara is too young to step in. But Sheev will watch her from now on. Like he watches Anakin Skywalker since the Battle of Naboo.

My uncle and his _entourage_ leave for the senate.

I cannot wait to see him tonight. So many questions burn in my mind. Some urgent pleas even.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources: “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star”, a popular English lullaby by Jane and Ann Tyalor  
> LucasFilm – now of course, owned by Disney  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Enzyklopedia
> 
> Inspirational song for this chapter: the children´s song “Twinkle, twinkle, little star”


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

Around lunch time I am totally worn out and I am glad when my colleague sees me off to a thirty minute break. I sit down in the office, which is also the meeting room of our team for the weekly team discussion.

Clinging on to a mug of tea I pray to Shiraya, the Moon goddess, by sketching fan hairdresses on a piece of paper. It is quite relaxing and totally meaningless. My mind is so much in turmoil that I would anger any deity with my gibberish.

My boss, Jessica Reidia, sneaks up behind me. “I knew it, you are from Naboo after all. Or you just love that Naboo senator. What is her name again?”

“Padmé Naberrie,” I prompt and looking at her confused face. “That is her real name. Her official title is Senator Amidala.”

“Ah! She goes undercover like you.” Jessica winks at me.

“You think me to be some kind of undercover agent?” I frown.

“You came to work for us three years and one month ago, Nagina.” She wraps me up in a strong embrace. “I do not care who you truly are and what planet you are from. Fact is: you are an enrichment for our team. I cannot imagine this kindergarten without you.”

As much as I am relieved to hear that, something is up. I can feel it as clear as day light.

Jessica lets go of me and I cling on to the steal frame of my chair for a heartbeat.

“I had this strange HoloNet call from the head of the Senate kindergarten. She wants you very badly. Can you imagine why that is?”

I shake my head.

“Has it anything to do with the Chancellor visiting today?” Thoughtfully, Jessica narrows her eyes. “He was very smiley when he walked out of here.

I break out in laughter. “You imply I have an affair with an older man?”

“Nobody could ever walk in Barin's shoes.”

“Because my husband was 4ft 5in tall?” I joke.

Jessica cannot help but to smile at me. “But he had most intense eyes ever and was totally hot.”

At the thought of him my heart skips a beat or two.

“I miss him, too, because he was a good person. The kids loved him as well. Life has not been fair since this blasted war broke out, Nagina.”

We gaze at each other for a while, our fingers intermingled.

“Thanks for being honest about the job offer.” Jessica gives me a brave smile. “We would hate to lose a brilliant teacher as you, even the Senate pays their kindergarten teachers better than we ever could.”

I rise from the metal office chair to be at her eye level. “Politicians are a hard lot. I could never work for them. You know I love this place and cannot imagine myself anywhere else.”

Visibly pleased with my loyalty, Jessica blows a kiss on my cheek and is off again.

********************************************************************

Of course my uncle is inside my flat when I come home after work. As a powerful Sith lord he has his ways.

A cloak hangs at the over-door hook of my hallway. It is black as midnight hour itself and has a large hood. My fingers touch the soft fabric, even though I know better than to play around with his belongings.

Careful, I check the small entrance hall.

No Red Guards hang around. I cannot spot Sly Moore or any other obedient servant of his. My uncle is completely on his own tonight. This is a private call.

I take off my shoes.

He has my LCD screen on. A classic music score is playing. The choir in the background actually sings lyrics in a language from a world long forgotten by the human race. But not to followers of Shiraya, the Naboo moon goddess.

_“Korah Matah Korah Rahtahmah_   
_Korah Rahtamah Yoodhah Korah_   
_Korah Syahdho Rahtahmah Daanyah_   
_Korah Keelah Daanyah_   
_Nyohah Keelah Korah Rahtahmah_   
_Syadho Keelah Korah Rahtahmah_   
_Korah Daanyah Korah Rahtahmah_   
_Korah Daanyah Korah Rahtahmah_   
_Nyohah Keelah Korah Rahtahmah_   
_Syadho Keelah Korah Rahtahmah_   
_Korah_   
_Korah Matah Korah Rahtahmah_   
_Korah Daanyah Korah Rahtahmah_   
_Nyohah Keelah Korah Rahtahmah_   
_Syadho Keelah Korah Rahtahmah_   
_Korah”_

“Fancy that!” I snort. “The language of the Elders.”

The general meaning of all the Sanskrit words is: _‘All the dread is mainly in the head.’_

The tempting scents of his cooking fills my flat.

My mother Mandré, his half-sister, taught Sheev a lot. Mutual respect was at the core of their relationship. Of course, she knew him for what he was, but did not hesitate to let him into her life. Her instincts told her that she could trust him with me. The day I was born, she placed me into his arms. By ancient tradition he recognized me as family and named me. Grandfather Cosinga was not to be told about me.

“Dinner is almost finished,” Sheev calls out. “I love you being punctual, Nagina.”

Despite all, I have to smile.

I love my uncle so much that it hurts. And I am wise to fear the man he has become. He is more withdrawn than ever, I cannot quite access him in the same way that I used to. He acts much fiercer, madder than he used to. And he is less reliable.

I stand in the door frame like an anxious child.

Sheev turns around, the cookery spoon still in his hands. The smile he gives me makes my knees weak.

It is my uncle who rushes towards me, not the other way around. He holds me for a very long time.

“Do not be afraid,” he finally whispers.

“Because fear leads to the dark side?” I ask back.

“No, because you are safe with me. Never, ever forget this, little star.” His embrace strengthens, but stays comfortable.

“Is Sly Moore still alive?” I dare to say.

“Always this care for others.” He chuckles a bit. “But then again, you are a care taker. You simply cannot help it.”

“You always took care of me,” I mumble into his robe, that is somewhat covered with one of my kitchen aprons.

“Be precise, little one! You are my caretaker. I had no chance.”

Sheev blows a kiss against my hair. It is soft and endearing. Around me he acts still like a human being.

“Let us set the table together as we used to,” he says in a hushed tone.

I nod and he lets go.

Obediently, I take out plates, glasses and cutlery. While I do I notice a bottle at the far end of the kitchen sink. It has a scarlet ribbon around it and the cork is already off.

“Blossom wine from Naboo,” I smile.

“Of course. You are the only niece I have. So you deserve but the best.”

As I search for the decanter that I have not used since Barin's death, I say, “Is this why you mangled with flight control today?”

My uncle frowns. “Pardon me?”

If he does not know about the incident with my public transport, than the problem is by far worse than I thought.

“And you did not order the senate kindergarten to win me over into their teaching staff?”

As if in deep pain, Sheev closes his eyes. “It already starts. And I have not even begun to fulfil my destiny.”

My voice is thin. “Now I am the one who is lost.”

His eyes snap open. There is a tinge of yellow in them, but I stand my ground. He rushes towards me and touches my shoulders.

“I want you to remember if anything unusual has happened today.”

“Apart from the public transport thing and my boss receiving that HoloNet call?” I enquire.

My uncle nods eagerly, his eyes genuine blue again.

“I bumped into Prince Xizor, literally.”

********************************************************************

I, of all people, know what an angry Sith lord is capable of. The fury of the dark side has been a companion to me all my life. But at present my Sheev's anger is cold and well-tempered. His time with Count Dooku served him well. Any teacher can learn from a student in return.

“Xizor,” he slurs. “That slimy reptile! I should have foreseen this.”

My uncle sweeps me back into his arms. Even though he keeps himself under control to protect me, I can feel the abyss within him. He has indeed become the king of beasts.

“I am sorry that my ambitions intermingle with your life, Nagina. This should not have happened.”

Being Force-sensitive I feel his regret and all that remains unsaid. I snuggle closer into his embrace, closer towards the abyss. “Why are you really here tonight?” I sniff. “Just for my company?”

A shiver goes through his body. Deep in the unsettling depths of his mind a door opens. The thickest one. It is the room in which he keeps the frightened boy that he once was. A child that had to experience too much violence by the hands of his own father. One who never came to know the unconditional love and protection of a mother.

“It is okay,” I whisper as one of my hands travels upwards towards his head. Soon my fingers move through his thin, pale hair. I can still remember the lively red colour it once possessed.

“No, it is not,” Sheev protests and the door within him is bolted again. “I should console you and not the other way around.”

“You are too harsh with yourself.”

His laughter is as withered as the rest of the man that stands in front of me. “You are the luxury that I should not cling to.”

“But I am not afraid,” I speak up.

“You should be, Nagina!” He plucks me from his chest and stares me straight in the eyes, while framing my face with his long, thin fingers. “For your own sake.”

“So this is the end game?” I inquire. “The Sith will rise again to take what they think is theirs by right?”

He blows a kiss against my brow, waking so many innocent memories of mine. “Let us have dinner first and talk later!”

“So there is much to talk through?” I narrow my eyes.

“My sweet, clever girl!” my uncle praises me, wicked glee all over his haughty features.

********************************************************************

During dinner we pretend that everything is normal between the two of us. It is not the first time we act like that. Back at Convergence, the ancestral home of House Palpatine, it had been our way to cope with the tyranny of Grandfather Cosinga.

Trying my best to keep the dark memories at bay, I cut my shaak steak. It is perfectly done. I sigh with pleasure when I take the first bite.

The vegetables are also a dream. I wonder what Sheev will serve for dessert.

Benevolently, he smiles at me. “I love the way you appreciate decent food.”

“Decent?” I laugh out loud. “You are kidding. This is gorgeous. Any five star restaurant would love to have you as their chéf.”

Mirth reflects from his clear blue eyes. “Alas, I am already Chancellor.”

Digging into my cauliflower from Chandrilla, I reply, “You should reconsider.”

Instead of reprimanding me that I talk with my mouth stuffed full, he smirks, “To be in charge of an entire galaxy is a bit like cooking. You stir the fate of so many beings and you add secret spices.”

Despite the Xizor affair my uncle seems to be in a good mood, enjoying our evening to the fullest. We both know that shared quality time is like an air bubble. It can cease to exist at any given moment.

“We still need a toast, Nagina.”

I grin, carefree. “Because you could take some time off tonight?”

“No, my toast goes to a very dedicated kindergarten teacher.”

“I am glad you noticed,” I joke.

“If there were more women like you out there, I would have extreme difficulties to restore the order of the Sith to its former glory.” He looks smug, but that is not what really concerns me about his statement. “Today I watched a lot of happy, bright children. You do a good job. They are all very clever, social and resilient. Especially...”

My fingers wrap more around my cutlery, almost bend the steel.

“...this little red head, what was her name again?”

“Mara,” I breathe.

“Do not worry!” my uncle grins, but he has the teeth of a predator now. “I was a little Force-sensitive red head once upon a time, too.”

“So... you see a familiar soul in her?” I suggest to keep the matter light.

“Not many children her age pity a beast like me,” he growls in a friendly manner.

“I did,” I object hastily for I want him to focus only on me.

“Ah but you were always special.” His eyes cloud. “You were so tiny in my arms, such a fragile bundle of skin and bones. When your gaze locked with mine, I was done for.”

“You say it like it is a bad thing, this bond we have.” My heart feels too small for my chest now.

“Sometimes. I cannot live with you, but I cannot live without you.”

“You seem not to be in great agony about it, uncle.” My tone stays light and playful.

“I try my very best.” Sheev winks at me, but I know he keeps his true feelings at bay. “Did you know that it was actually your dear mother who taught me how to properly gauge when a steak is cooked?”

I remain silent and manage a brave smile.

Sheev takes a sip of blossom wine. “She was a fine woman. And believe me, she deserved better than having her head bashed in by that old monster.”

I bite my under lip, hold my tears in. “It was unbelievably kind of you to take care of her funeral.”

“Mandré was my sister after all.” He puts his glass down again, slow and reflective. “More than those painted, brainless dolls that my mother had given birth to.”

My uncle never had arranged the traditional Naboo funeral for any of his siblings. The ship they had been on had simply disappeared. And with it all the corpses on-board.

Sometimes I still dream about it. _“Dies irae,”_ I whisper. _The Day of Wrath._

“We wanted to forget about it!” He sighs reproachfully. “But what want you to keep in mind is: Xixor is already on your tail. And I have other enemies that lurk in the shadows.”

A terrible thought crosses my mind. “You cannot control what you have unleashed any more!”

“Of course I can!” Defiance is written all over his features. “But I want you to be away from the core worlds as much as possible.”

“What have you planned?” I pipe up.

“I could tell you,” Sheev replies, his voice menacingly soft, “But then I would need to kill you.”

This I believe without any doubt. I am flushed and annoyed by all means. “What ever it is. I will not leave the children that I am taking care of. Nor this flat where I used to be happy with Barin. You cannot demand this from me, Sheev.”

Using his birth name in a conversation is a dangerous thing to do, but I cannot help it. It is the name of his true self he is so eager to leave in eternal night.

He gets up and walks right behind me.

“You will like Lothal.” His elegant hands come down on the back of my chair. “It is very much like Naboo, grassy plains, spine tree forests, farmland, mountains and seas. It is more arid and less lush, true. But it has no Gungans on it or a hollow planet core.”

Bitterness sings in my voice when I speak up. “This is your master plan? You want to store me away like a precious Kyber crystal?”

“Things will get very ugly soon, believe me.” My uncle leans his chin on top of my head, not minding my hair. You deserve so much more than a bloody battlefield again.”

Soundless tears roll down my cheeks as I remember the shores of red in which House Palpatine drowned.

“There is a kindergarten much in need of you. They have a newly founded group with children in crawling age.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> the lyrics of the score “Duel of the Fates” from “Music From Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace by John Williams” by Warner Bros. Publications  
> “Dies irea”, a Medieval hymnus about Judgement Day  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Enzyklopedia
> 
> Inspirational song for this chapter:  
> the SW score “Duel of the Fates” by the composer John Williams for the movie “Star Wars, Episode I: The Phantom Menace”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sources: Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Enzyklopedia
> 
> Inspirational song for this chapter: the score “Jeeves and Wooster theme” by composer Anne Dudley for the BBC series “Jeeves and Wooster”

**Chapter 4:**

“So what's the big deal?” I growl, staring at our empty wine glasses. “The apocalypse?”

There is no response. I simply hear my uncle put our dishes and the cutlery into the dish washer, that works with a sonic device like my shower.

Water is precious on Coruscant. The city planet has no resources on its own and is fully dependent on other planets. Like I am dependant on my uncle's sanity.

“You mistake me for a lunatic,” Sheev comments from the kitchen. “To you I am always gracious, Nagina.”

“Please stay out of my thoughts!” I complain as I clench my hands into fists.

“You think too loud and too clear.” He glides back in, looking almost harmless with my kitchen apron. “I was never able to ignore your feelings.”

I gaze at him, tears shimmering in my eyes. “Let me stay!”

My uncle shakes his head in honest regret. “Enemies like Xizor show me what the price for my greed is.”

“I am no one's price, Sheev.”

“Yet you are priceless to me.” Tenderness conquers his haggard face. “And there are things that even I cannot foresee.”

“Then let go of your hate, your anger and your fear.”

“I am one with the dark side, Nagina. It is too late for me. The events I set in motion cannot be stopped. I will be the ultimate ruler of this universe. They will fear me and despair.”

There are so many things I could say, but instead I choose to ask about his mortal enemies. “What about the Jedi?”

His grin is that of a skull. “They will be taken care of.”

My overheated brain lines up the possibilities. “The clone army, that poor General Kenobi found for you. There is something wrong with the clones.”

“There is?” His keen eyes remain fixed on my face. “I should contact Kamino at once. But on the other hand, I have no proof. Just a niece that is too clever for her own good.”

My chest heaves up and down. I feel dizzy.

“Let us have some more blossom wine,” he offers. “You seem to need it.”

While Sheev fetches the decanter for us and refills the glasses, I hide my face between my palms. “You will wipe them all out.”

“I bloody hope so”, he agrees heartily. “Their trust in their loyal troops will be their downfall.”

There it is, the core of his evil plan. Sheev has revealed it to me like the heart piece of a Chyntuck, an onion-like vegetable from Kashyyyk.

I stare at the table cloth which is so white and shiny. “Now that I know your master plan, will I be shipped off to Lothal immediately?”

He looks hurt. “You are not a piece of cargo that I want someone else to take care of. Or a loaded gun that I need to discharge.”

I raise my chin proudly. “And if I walk straight into the Jedi temple to warn them?”

His chuckling makes my ears ring. “Be my guest, Nagina!”

Now I am painfully aware that my chances to reveal his evil deeds are zero. The Jedi Order has become arrogant. They will turn a blind eye.

My uncle taps my shoulders enthusiastically. “Please go ahead! Show me that you are right and I am wrong!"

Either way I will sin. And be doomed. “I cannot believe that you are doing this to me.”

Carefully, he cups my chin. “This is exactly what this old monster hated about you and what I learned to love. You inspire people to believe, not to lose hope. Even I want to know what you can do to stop me.”

“Can there be no mercy?”

“Not where my shadow will fall. But perhaps where you blissfully walk, my little star. You will always keep a light on for me.” His dry lips kiss my brow as they did a thousand times before. “I am a Palpatine. Due to your mother Mandré you are a better person.”

I reach up for his face, but he stops my hands mid-air. “Don't!” he begs.

After all this time Sheev is still afraid of human touch, of real affections.

“When I will plunge everything in darkness, please try to keep the balance. The light side and the dark. I am not a fool. I need a bright soul like yours. Otherwise there will be never-ending night.”

I dare a last attempt. “Can you not at least try to rule the universe in a different way. Must it be... sithly?”

My uncle laughs relaxed and happy. “I must say you are extremely funny. If I would have you around me on a daily basis it would endanger my mission.”

“Because you would learn to look at life itself with much kinder eyes?”

Gently, he puts my wine glass into my right hand. “Go to Lothal while you still can. Oppose me from there Do your best. But remember, I do not play fair.”

I smirk, remembering our holographic chess battles throughout the years. “So you mainly want to protect me from the beast you will become.”

“Xizor is but a young prankster, full of himself. A reptile that I can easily smash with my boots.”

“But not right now”, I object. “Not before you have reached the hight of your powers. You said so earlier on.”

“You pay more attention than all those jerks in the daily senate debates.” Our glasses shatter together. “I cannot cloud your mind like anybody else's.”

I leave my drink untouched. “So it is the Jedi order first and next you want to smash democracy itself.”

“Oh, Nagina”, he whispers happily.

“And you came here tonight because you are bursting with pride. Because you are not able to keep your excitement in. And since Darth Plagueis is dead and Count Dooku such a bore, you need me. For company, for sharing, for...”

Sheev narrows his eyes. “This is why you are so dangerous. You make me feel like an old Tom-cat who wants to share the trophies of his hunt. No matter how gruesome they are.”

********************************************************************

After dinner, we retreat to the living-room suite. We take our wine glasses and the refilled decanter with us. My uncle decides to put on some music again. His choice makes me hope for the future again. It’s jazz or swing. Light and playful the tunes bounce around.

A lot of people know my uncle as a patron of the arts. He owns a private viewing box in the Galaxies Opera House, which has a premier view of the performance arena. His service accommodation is literally scattered with art work from all over the galaxy, mostly sith artefacts that are hidden right in the open.

But sometimes, he goes for a much lighter indulgence. Something less dark with a down-to-earth informality: milk shakes at street-corner diners, having popcorn while watching holo dramas at the movies.

To maintain his well protected privacy and ensure my safety while I am with him, my uncle displays a strong aptitude for acting and disguise. To appear as a tea drinking, friendly gentleman in his golden years is just one of the roles that he plays. Like a Clawdite, a shape shifting species, his change goes bone deep.

I stop my pondering for a while and simply drink in the sight of my uncle. The way he moves through the room, holding on to his glass and making some forlorn dancing steps, I can tell that he is about to take me somewhere.

Since he has been elected Supreme Chancellor, due to his own cunning plans, we have not been out together in public. He either meets me here in my flat or I am ushered inside his official residence.

“Let us have a ride!” he announces in between two music scores. “Like in the old days.”

“A ride,” I repeat. “Are you desperate for trouble with traffic control?”

His laughter roars through the room. He looks like a much younger man now. There is a happy glow around him.

“It is like waving a red banner, yelling: This is the sith lord you are looking for,” I scold him.

He shrugs off my misgivings. “We will just cruise around in the sub levels. No big deal.”

I rub my temples. “No big deal? Drinking and driving are never a good idea.”

“The alcohol is not the real problem here.” He sets his shoulders, looks more imperious now. “Your attitude is. I should help you to reconsider.”

“I need to get up early tomorrow morning,” I insist.

“You have the late shift, Nagina! I checked your duty roster today. You are not due before 9 am sharp.”

Now it dawns on me. He seriously visited me this morning to learn my schedule. My boss always has copies of the actual spreadsheet, but she writes the times down by hand and pins the roster on to an old fashioned memo board. His spies could not find out about my working week. And so he, the spy master, decided to check for himself.

Poor Mara got discovered by a mere inconvenience of his.

My uncle tuts, playing the disappointed one. “I should find this lack of faith disturbing. But then again, I am a true believer when it comes to you.”

I am not sure whether he refers to my Force-sensitive ward or to his flying skills. So I go for the latter, telling myself he is out of my thoughts again. “You are a fine speed racer.”

The shadow of a smile dances at the corners of his mouth. “Am I, indeed?”

His offered hand is an invitation that I cannot reject. I do not wish to be a disappointment to him, no matter what he does to the Republic. “Just do me one favour...”

“I did not kill off anybody on purpose when the speeder crashed,” he interrupts me short tempered, reading me like one of his sith scrolls. “Your life was at stake back then, Nagina!” His gaze softens. “I could hardly concentrate flying with you almost dying on me.”

There are whispers on Naboo that young Palpatine has been a ruthless scoundrel, a traffic offender of the worst kind. That Cosinga has paid a lot of compensation for injuries suffered. Shush money.

The sad truth is, all that innocent blood is on me. I effectively murdered those two pedestrians who were not quick enough to escape the vehicle of my uncle.

“It was the only occasion the old monster ever got to you.” He clasps his hands together and wrings them. “I felt like killing him for what his cursed whip did to you. You were but three years old. Instead I choose for your safety and well-being.”

“You told the attending physician in the ER that you had done the deed,” I murmur.

“Indirectly I did.” He flushes to his hairline. “I was not careful enough hiding your existence. If I had done a better job, his anger would have never struck you down like it did. It was alright for me that he hated me for ever being born. For my unnatural powers. My constant disobedience. But to have hurt you like he did, Nagina,...”

His voice breaks as he squeezes me against him, even though he is the one who suffered most of us. His own father emasculated him like he would a misfit Shaak bull, deeming him unfit stock.

If the Jedi order only could have found him right after birth. He would have grown up somewhere safe and kind. There would be no pact between the dark side of the Force and him. His soul would be righteous and not such a tangled affair.

“You won!” I say, barely above a whisper. “I even let you fly.”

********************************************************************

It is sweet intoxication, dangerous and wild. The thrill of speed runs through us both. I can feel the engines shiver.

We had crazy outings like this when I was a young teen. One time my uncle took me even to Malastare to see some pod racing. We had been both dressed up beyond recognition.

I stare into the night, asking myself if unfortunate Anakin Skywalker got noticed by Sheev for being part of the Boonta Eve Classic twice. As a race sport fanatic he always follows the results of that particular race.

“Hold on tight,” he whispers into his mic. “We cannot have you fall off, can we?”

Obediently, I snuggle closer as we race through the street canyons of Coruscant with a continuous descent approach. Even though we are faster than we should be, traffic control does not have us on its radars. Somehow sith manage to bend traffic rules all the time. I remember the ’Scimitar’, the personal starship of Maul.

As if to turn my head on more essential matters like survival, my uncle makes a breathtaking loop.

I dig my gloved hands deeper into his leather suit, clinging on with all my might.

Soon we reach the Dacho District, which is close to the Senate District. I clearly recognize that we are flying straight into the heart of The Works, the large industrial area of Coruscant.

“This is my secret hideout,“my uncle lets me know and points out a tall tower. “The LiMerge Building. Originally it was designed as a weapons manufacturing facility.”

“Great,” I mumble. “I hope you do not make me meet the boys.”

“The boys,” my uncle chuckles. “You make it sound like my play ground peer group.”

“I wish it would be such an innocent connection.”

He steers the speeder towards one of the many docking bays, still chuckling. “Nagina, I’ve sensed that you need a little lady’s break quiet a while ago. Stop giving me a bad attitude. It does not suit you.”

I should have squirmed less in my seat. Of course he knows that my bladder is on the brink of bursting. Blossom wine can be worse than Corellian ale.

“So you are behind the holding company LiMerge Power. Why doesn’t it surprise me? How much property do you actually own on Coruscant?”

He does not answer directly, just tuts.

We land in a giant hall. It has an eerie touch to it.

My uncle lets me slide off the machine first.

“So this is what a secret sith base looks like.” Curiously, I look around, but I cannot spot any gloomy statues or hieroglyphs from Koriban, now called Moraband. But I notice marks that only a light sabre can be responsible for. “Let me guess, you trained Mauly here.”

“What gives you the impression?”

His voice is somewhat clipped now and I could hit myself on the head for using my nickname for a certain Zabrak that I used to be fond of. “With him you were always most generous,” I explain too hastily, too eager. “He was your favourite pet. So this here looks like the perfect animal enclosure.”

“Your feelings betray you. He meant a lot to you.”

I am glad that the helmet does not show my blush. “You do not know what you are talking about.”

“Am I not?” He cups my helmet. “It is always a danger to introduce you to my dark acolytes. They either develop a serious crush on you or are keen on killing you. Sometimes it is both. You possess more charm than you believe. A Dathomir Night Sister holds less power than you.”

I can feel Count Dooku before I see him walking towards us.

“Milady,” the haggard human greets me stiffly.

Gracefully, I curtsey in front of him, but I leave my visor down. I do not want to face him right now. Since years he regards me as some silly concubine, who wants to be entertained by his master non-stop. An inconvenience he needs to put up with.

The leather covered hands of my uncle come down on my shoulders protectively. He also does not take his helmet off. “I am not to be bothered by anything tonight.”

“But, master...”

“Calm down! She is of no consequence to our plans. You already got briefed and everything is ready to be set in motion.” He releases me and hustles me forwards playfully. Like an eopie nudging her young one on. “Off you are, my little star! Go straight for a while. It is the second door to the left.”

********************************************************************

There is no ladies room. It is a unisex toilet, also fit for non-humans. It will have to do. I flee inside the cabin.

I peel off my leather suit and thrust my visor up.

Meeting Count Dooku was unexpected. But what I really dislike is that my uncle has tuned himself to my needs ever since I was a little baby in his arms.

Suddenly there is the unpleasant sound of metal clicking, followed by heavy breathing.

I start wondering if the toilet door will hold an attack by General Grievous. There are also no defence weapons I can use. This is a modern toilet that does not need toilet paper. Just those stupid shells.

“Ah, it is you again!” the cyborg rattles. “The master’s little shadow.”

I know better than to answer. It would be something unbelievingly rude and I always ask my kindergarten kids not to use swear words. They are bad style.

“You cannot stay in there the entire night.”

“Try me! I have the bladder of a Shaak,” I mumble and start to quote nursery rhymes in my head.

“You do not seem to be a human who avoids a direct confrontation.”

If there is a chance to run, I run. And if there is a possibility to hide, I simply hide. I might have suffered less abuse and mutilation than my uncle, but it marked me for life nevertheless.

“I have all the time in the world,” General Grievous assures me. His metal fingers beat an unnerving drum on the tiles. This really gets to me. Grandfather Cosinga used to do something similar with the handle of his leather belt.

Anxiously, I fidget with the toilet controls and get properly dressed again. With my visor down I break out of the tiny cabin. “What now!” I exclaim, overtaxed and ashamed at the same time. “You are such an advanced cyborg and you still have to pee? What an inconvenience!”

“I always wondered what the master can possibly enjoy about a female like you.” He moves closer with his artificial limbs that come straight from my deepest childhood nightmares about spiders. “Now I know the answer.”

I dig my feet deep into the soles of my leather boots.

“You are funny.” This is an answer I did not see coming. “You walked into that toilet with your helmet on. And you are not even Mandalorian.”

The finesse of his punchline escapes me totally, but then again: he was always a bully, doing some punching.

“Very well, General, but I need to leave now! I am expected.”

Metal fingers and sensoric joints close around my right arm. “Only a word!”

“By all means hurry!” I squeak, feeling the need to revisit the toilet for another matter. My insides feel upside down. “He does not like to wait as you do.”

“The Master should not be with you tonight. It endangers the stage that is already set for tomorrow.”

His unhealthy coughs fill the stale air. I try not to stare at the collection of light sabres that he carries with him. All belong to Jedi knights that fell in battle with him. Consternation makes me courageous again.

“Good heavens! Start coughing into a hanky, would you. This is disgusting!”

I fumble around in my tight flight suit, looking like a mad Twi'lek dancer doing impossible movements.

Surprised, General Grievous sets me free.

“Here you go! Good boy!”

When I press my pocket handkerchief in one of his four mechanical hands, I realize that he has not really a mouth. And there is no nose any more. Feeling like a complete idiot, I scramble out of the room.

Breathing has become difficult and I yank my visor open. Exhausted, I hurry through a dark corridor.

“Is the General your valiant knight now?” an operatic bass voice mocks me from the shadows.

Reacting purely on instinct, I shift backward. That sudden move makes me sprawl flat on my huge backside.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

Straightening away from the wall where he had been leaning, Count Dooku comes towards me. He grins as wide as a Nexu being on a prowl. “You know in some cultures it even counts as a wedding proposal, when you give a man your handkerchief.”

I gaze up to him with a face contorted with pain. My elbows throb from the violent encounter with the concrete floor. “I have no wish to remarry. Once a widow, always a widow.”

“A pity.” Directly in front of me he sinks down into an elegant crouch. “You should reconsider. The old man will not always be in need of your services.”

My brows lift. “Neither is he old, nor is he at the brink of death. Unless you apply the _Chwayatyun_ here.”

“The Rule of Two,” he echoes smoothly in Basic. “Milady is familiar with it?”

_“When your power eclipses mine I will become expendable. This is the Rule of Two: one Master and one apprentice. When you are ready to claim the mantle of Dark Lord as your own, you must do so by eliminating me.”_

He rewards my quote from Darth Bane to Darth Zannah with a joyful smile. “I underestimated you.”

Before I can hinder him, he grasps one of my arms and lifts my right hand to his mouth. A quick, hard kiss is pressed to it.

“There is only so much crazy I can handle!” I exclaim. An audacious thought crosses my mind. I hesitate a moment, then go for it. “Is this because of her? The Vicomtesse Elodore of Valahari?”

His face falls. “He told you?”

“Nope. You did yourself just now.” I manage to slide away from him. “I follow the daily news ticker closely and therefore figured out that the recent death of Tofen Vane would look bad on you.”

He exhales harshly before saying with quiet authority. “Skywalker killed him!”

“Convenient to be able to put the blame on others!” My mouth twists wryly while I lift myself up laboriously. “My kindergarten kids do that all the time, too. Grow up!”

I leave him standing, shooting me an incredulous look.

********************************************************************

My uncle waits for me, leaning casually against the speeder. As I reach him, he states. “You forgot to turn off your mic.”

I cross my arms in front of my chest, trying to cling on to my pride.

“Do not stone-wall me, Nagina! But frankly, you manage to get my servants upset all the time. This is one of the reasons why I like your presence.”

Tears gather in my eyes and I take a deep breath. “Now you will explain to me that the word ’victim’ is written all over me.”

“Victim? This is how you see yourself?” He shakes his head and pulls the visor up. His eyes shine overly blue in the dark hangar. “You are a survivor. There is a hard core made out of dura steal. You can be as strict as you can be sweet and kind. This is why your kindergarten wards love you so much, why their parents respect you.”

“That may be, but you are like a dejarik grandmaster moving pieces on a board.” I take a step closer and he stands his ground. “Let me guess, there will be a pawn sacrifice, possibly two.”

He winks at me. “I am so glad that we are on our own now. Your conclusions cannot be heard by my minions any longer.”

“Why would I warn two villains off?” I try to sound offended.

“There is this thing about kindergarten teachers. They are not to be fooled easily by outer appearances or lame tricks. Their focus is sharp. And they are such believers. Mistress Opé was the same as you. She even guarded her annoyance with me well.”

Until he was in his late twenties my uncle never met anybody’s expectations. Not even the ones of his dark master, Darth Plagueis. The frightening Muun always pushed him to new extreme levels with his sith training. I was the only person he was able to make happy to a certain extent.

“I should have taught you to keep your mental shields up better,” he sighs. “Dangerous times are to come. Outright thinking will be a punishable crime.”

“You should warn this Republic and not me,” I groan.

My uncle steers his speeder towards the lights of the city again. “You get tired and cranky,” he tries to persuade himself. “Let us both have a Ardees and a Sic-Six layer cake.”

He obviously wants to risk it all for his beloved Jawa juice and my dessert. “Are you not afraid to run into Kenobi or your protégée Skywalker? They are regulars there.”

He snorts. “I am at a place where I do not fear any longer.”

Perhaps he has overcome fear a long time ago, but so much power makes one lonely. I also believe that he has not slept decently in years. But if it is the raw power running through his veins or old childhood demons I cannot tell. It is certainly not his bad conscience.

His right hand leaves the handle, looking for my left one. “If I am to sleep at night, you have to stop thinking. I know it is difficult, been there myself. But if you master some control here, you can achieve silence inside your head.”

Sometimes silence is a blessing, but most times it is a sign of ignorance. Of stagnation.

********************************************************************

Dex's Diner is full with customers, even at this time of night. Coruscant is the city that never sleeps, especially CoCo Town, a dilapidated industrial area. A lot of tired and hungry workers are around us, the regulars of this home cooking-style eatery.

The owner, a bulk of a male Besalisk, gives us thoughtful looks now and then. For my uncle keeps his right hand linked with my left all the way through dinner, choosing to eat one-handed rather than release his hold on me.

“Let him think about us what he wants.” His voice, as mild as it sounds, does not leave much room for argumentation. “It does not bother me and it certainly does not bother you. It never did.”

I bite my lip. “But if anybody recognizes you...”

“People just want to see what suits them.” He grins so big that it lights up the corner booth that we sit in. “I could be a black unicorn and they would mistake me for an old gelding.”

Without warning my uncle gets up and walks up to the old-fashioned jukebox. He puts a Republic credit inside and makes his choice.

The melancholic sound of a piano fills the diner, soon joined by the voice of a male singer. I recognize the blues song as one of my uncle's favourite oldies from Radio Coruscant.

 At his return the waitress, a freckled human woman, brings us our second round of drinks. I can tell that she knows exactly who my uncle is. But, as most people who work in the service industry, she is discrete. I will give her a generous tip when we are finished here.

While he sucks in his drink, I let my gaze wander around to scan the crowd better. It is an old kindergarten teacher tic. My eyes always search for behaviour or dialogues that do not fit in. “You know that there are at least two bounty hunters in here?”

“Of course, Nagina.” He seems not to be overly anxious about it. “Xixor seems to have developed an unhealthy fixation on you. They will tell him that you and I are an item. This will drive him crazy, because he thinks of himself as a very big catch.”

I blush crimson red. “You are not overly bothered about it.”

“Enjoy the fact that this lizard face thinks that you fall for elderly gentleman with an acquired taste.” He winks.

I shove my chocolate milk shake away and cross my arms in front of me. “Do you want to kill everybody who is desperate to date me?”

He pauses with his own drink. “I allowed Barin to marry you, right? Because he was very much deserving. But of late my dark influence rubs off on you. A lot of psychopaths gather around you like hungry Rathtars. I cannot possibly sanction that.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Why do you put me on display like that anyway?”

“It's this tom-cat thing again.” He looks sorry. “I cannot help but to brag about you. You are my darling niece.”

I roll my eyes at him. “You never went to those therapy sessions that I suggested to you, did you?”

He makes an extra loud noise with his plastic straw.

“Of course you have better things to do with your precious time than getting better,” I sniff.

“I cannot get any better.” He smiles, but his eyes are steely. “Some people are born psychopaths and killers. Perhaps even some of your own kindergarten wards.”

His words wound me deeply. “Don't!” I beg faintly. “It is not fair.”

“The dark side is a powerful tool only the witty can use. Rejoice instead of being so heartbroken all the time! Some of us grasp for the opportunities being offered. Especially when their lives are rotten.”

The waitress bustles back, picking up empties and replacing them with clean glasses. When she turns up at our table, I use her appearance as an excuse to take another pee.

********************************************************************

The woman who stares at me through the looking glass is a stranger. Her eyes are wide with sorrow, her features are somewhat worn out due to fatigue.

How I possibly want to appear at work tomorrow morning I do not know. But there is no trying. Not at least in my life.

I take out a moist towelette and wipe over my face. “Pull your act together, Nagina!”

As I step backwards, one of the toilet booths opens.

A relatively small alien walks out. It looks somewhat like a Goolam, but the skin is orange instead of midnight blue. A pair of huge goggles make the eyes appear like dishes. In contrast to the simple clothing is an impressive collection of rings and bracelets.

Shyly, I smile at the female.

“Are you also bar hopping tonight, my dear?” she asks cheerfully.

I shake my head. “Just saying good-bye to somebody I hold dear.”

“Me, too.” She moves closer to me. “For my Wookie friends I left my watering hole on Takodana. They are such darlings. A pity that Chewie and his pals are off to their home world soon. General Tarfful needs them back.”

Of course I have heard of the impressive warrior Chewbacca. Together with the Jedi Padawan Ahsoka Tano and two younglings, Jinx and O-Mer, he had fallen victim to one of my uncle's sinister schemes. Fortunately, it did not turn out the way it should have. “This war demands too much from all of us,” I consider.

“You are too young to be so sad,” announces the alien woman, her eyes scanning me more intently. “Who ever he is to you, let him go. He does not make you happy. Perhaps he did once, but not any more. The past is the past. Leave it behind.”

********************************************************************

On my way back into the public room, an auxiliary closet is yanked open from the inside.

As a kindergarten teacher I am always on alert, expecting the unexpected. So instead of being scared I just raise my eye brows at the stranger. He wears a helmet that vaguely reminds me of a Tusken mask. The white, grey and red markings do not ring a bell though.

_“K'uur!”_ a male voice hisses in Mando, making the well known kindergarten hand gesture for silence. _Hush!_

Beaming, I step into the very confined space with detergents and old-fashioned swabs. _“Su'cuy gar!”_ I greet my old acquaintance cheekily. _So you're still alive._

“I was in prison, not dead, Nagina. That is a big difference.”

“Nice to see you!” I feel like hugging him, but he is not a ten year old boy any longer. He might not like me getting physical with him. Besides, his father Jango taught him to be a proud Mandalorian.

_“Mar'e,”_ Boba Fett sighs, struggling to take his helmet off. _At last._

I stare. I cannot help it.

For his thirteen years of age he is a giant. His dark curls are gone and are replaced by a strict military hair style. This way he looks like his million clone brothers out there in the galaxy. But I recognize him by his mischievous smile.

“Listen very carefully now! I will say that only once,” he says with the strange accent of a beloved comedian of mine. “Prince Xizor is keen on getting you under his wings, whether you like it or not.”

“So those bounty hunters out there are indeed all his,” I conclude. “But that leads me to the next question. Who sent you?”

“I did, of course.” He rolls his eyes. “I am self-employed these days.”

He does not mention Aura, which is bad news. They did not part well the last time they saw each other in person.

“Listen, Boba!” I feel my uncle getting restless, reaching out for me in the Force. “A storm is coming! Leave this planet and go somewhere safe. A place where the Supreme Chancellor has no say. Hutt territory for example.”

“Kenobi and Skywalker are no problem for me!” he sneers. “Just let them come!”

“Boba! I will leave this closet now and return to my uncle. You know I have to. Please sneak back the same way you came in! I do not want you to be caught by servants of the Republic or the dark side. Thanks for your warning! You are great!”

_“Re' turcye mhi!”_ The youngster salutes and opens the closet door again. _Goodbye!_

********************************************************************

My heart hammers in my chest, when I enter the kitchen area. The owner, who cooks and fries with gusto, is not pleased to see me in his little kingdom. But, being in the service industry, he stays polite and professional. “The toilets are in the back, dear!” the Besalisk explains.

I take another nervous step forward. My voice sounds thinner than I want it to be. “Actually, I wanted to see you, Mister Jettster.”

“Was there anything wrong with the cake?” he wonders, scratching his overly large head that is full of reptile scales.

“Oh, no!” I blush. “It was a dream. As usual.”

He relaxes a bit. “How may I be of help then? You seem to be very distressed. Are you unwell?”

I am glad that he noticed. My hands are awfully wet with sweat, but I try to be brave. “I have a message for General Kenobi. It is urgent! A matter of life and death.”

Having said thus, I hand over the Flimsiplast sheet that I have written on. Reluctantly, he takes it. “Why would you give something of such value to me?” he asks, completely baffled. He scratches through his beard stubbles. “I have seen you often when making day trips with your Kindergarten children.” Now he steps closer. “What could possible make a teacher like you political?”

“Oh, you mean the Supreme Chancellor? With whom I hang out the entire night.”

He nods.

“I can't help it,” I sigh and the first tears break lose. “He is my uncle.”

Bewildered, Mister Jettster fumbles around in his apron and finds a clean handkerchief for me. He swings his giant arm around me and tries to shush me. “I will deliver your message. You were always a good customer. I guess, that you already tried at the Jedi Temple before.”

“Yes,” I sniff. “That was not a great success.”

“Obi-Wan is not like the other Jedi.” The Besalisk holds me with two arms, while a third is busy wiping tears from my face and the forth gets a glass of water for me. “I will see that he gets this quickly.”

********************************************************************

My uncle steeples his fingers when I return to our table. “It took you quite a while. You should see a urologist about it!”

“I am fine,” I insist, hoping that my eyes are not puffy from crying still.

There is a new milk shake waiting for me. Sighing, I sit down.

“I can order something else,” he offers.

“No more orders!”

My plea brings a sizzling, predatory glimmer into his eyes. “You make it sound like I forced 66 milkshakes down your throat.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Just this last one, Nagina!”

“Please take me home! It is late and I am tired.”

“And afraid!” He scans me thoughtfully. “I wonder what about.”

“More revelations by you. It is reading like one of your ancient scriptures.”

He is a picture of smugness. “I told you before not to skim through my literature. It can poison your soul.”

I close my eyes and let the quote out, that has been simmering inside me the entire night.

_“The Sith'ari will be free of limits._   
_The Sith'ari will lead the Sith and destroy them._   
_The Sith'ari will raise the Sith from death and make them stronger than before.”_

“This is too much an honour,” I hear him say. “You are wrong. I am not the _Sith'ari_. I simply do what must be done.”

My guts knot, thinking of the Jedi massacre that he hinted at to me before. “The dark side is unnatural.”

“There are sentient beings out there who would say the same about birth control.”

The sudden change of subject makes me wary. Why would he say that?

He leans in very close. “Actually, I have a child, Nagina. A male heir. This is the last bit of information that I need to share with you tonight.”

********************************************************************

I have a cousin. My mouth drops wide open in wonder. There is nothing intelligent I can say back to my uncle. I just breath hard, hear the blood rushing through my veins.

“At present I will not tell you who he is or where. I need to test him in the ways of the dark side.”

“Hold on!” My fist comes down on the table, making the glasses shatter. “You would do that to your own child?”

“Do what?” he asks, his face a mask of countenance.

“Undergoing all this bantha poodoo with him.”

His voice is cool and even. He reminds me of one of my college teachers on Naboo. “This poodoo how you call it, is my religion. I do not insult your faith in the moon goddess of our forefathers that much.”

Heat engulfs my entire body. “You would sacrifice your only son on the altar of the Sith religion.”

“I will be the Sith religion and he will follow me.”

“This is not how a father-son relationship should be!”

“Excuse me!” Darkness crawls over his features. He lowers his voice to a hoarse whisper. But each word gets to me anyway. Cuts through me like a light sabre. “This is the only way any relationship works for me.”

I stare back at him, wide-eyed. His eyes are yellow and blood-shoot. This is really happening in public.

“I did not have the favour of child protection like you did. The minute we arrived in the ER you got all the help you needed. Your own social worker, an army of therapists, basically all the goodies Theed had to offer.”

Tears flow over my cheeks like rivers. “Are you implying that you are jealous of me? Because you took the blame? And only made me the victim? Denying yourself the same attention and also the humiliation to be Cosinga's punch ball?”

Surprise is in his eyes who change into blue twin lakes again.

“I am going home now, Sheev.” My stomach churns for a moment, then settles again. I have to play it cool and aloof. As loud as I can I say, “Do not, I repeat, do not follow me!”

With that I get up and rush out of the diner.

Somewhere in the back of the diner I hear someone cheer and clap enthusiastically.

“Well done! Show him!”

A chorus of Wookies agrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources: Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Enzyklopedia
> 
> Inspirational song for this chapter: the score “Sunshine” by Bear McCreary for the TV series “The Walking Dead”


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6:**

The streets of Coruscant are not dark at night. They are simply less overcrowded than at day time. Instead of calling an air taxi, I choose to walk. At least for a while.

I do not care if bounty hunters are after me or Prince Xixor himself. Tonight I lost my uncle for good and right now, hurt and angry with him, I am not sure if I want him back. He complicates my life all the time.

The past twenty years I had to move places so many times because of him. Naboo, Chandrila, Alderaan, Kuat, Corellia, Hosnian Prime, Coruscant and now Lothal is to be my next stop.

Sheev is asking too much of me. My loyalty is almost used up.

A Coruscant Air Taxi shows up next to me, attuning to my movements.

When I am already prepared to flee into a small side street that is narrow enough for a human body only, the hooded driver casually leans towards me. A slender hand waves me closer. It's white and has long, black painted fingernails. “Let's talk, sister!”

Without hesitation I join Aurra Sing in the vehicle. We hug very shortly, then I let her fly on.

“Wanna stay in my hiding hole tonight?” she asks, scanning me with a quick side glance. She leaves the hood on, just in case.

“I will be taken to Lothal sooner or later.” I shrug. “Without me you are much safer!”

“Don't be gentle as a young Shaak being brought to the slaughter-house.” A deep frown mares her brow, that is fairy visible under the hood. Her skin was always luminescent. “Take action! Run! Or fight!”

“One way or another he is going to find me.”

“Nagina, do not make me angry! I mean it. If it helps I am going to run us both against the next wall.”

“Is this about Hondo?” I voice.

“Do not drag him into it,” Aurra huffs like a Krayt Dragon. Then her features turn milder again. “Did parents ever express the wish to kill you after a parent-teacher conference? You can be pretty annoying and sassy, you know.”

One of her chalk-white hands wanders off the control stick and squeezes my left knee cap gently.

“Perhaps I sleep at the place of one of my colleagues tonight. The one that is on holidays. I have her apartment key card with me.” I point towards my breasts, feeling the card with a very strong awareness in my right bra cup. “Actually, I am her plant sitter.”

Aurra is happy about my foresight, but than her mouth, looking clown like due to her tattoos, drops again. “Tell me that you are not going to work tomorrow!”

“I have to. One fellow teacher is at home with a sick child, another one in hospital. We are also one person down since seven months and...”

“Stop it!” she hisses, cat-like. “You are worse than a Jedi Knight with all this responsibility nonsense. Try to think like a bounty hunter!”

I blow up my cheeks and make a plopping sound. “We saw how that worked for Asajj.”

That grants me a super dark gaze out of her green eyes. “Bad example.”

“Zam Wesell,” I throw in.

“Even worse example to distract from yourself.”

With my jaw tight, I stare ahead of me. “I am sorry that you do not like my examples. I am sorry that you do not like me going to work. I...”

“Argh!” Aurra pulls the vehicle to a full stop. “Stop being sorry!”

Exhausted, we stare at one another.

She is the one who talks first though. “Poor thing! You will always feel the blame for everything that goes wrong in this universe.”

Like a mother Aurra takes my head in both of her hands. Her palms are pleasantly cool and smooth. The hands of a killer. “Sometimes bad things just happen and nobody is to blame,” she says. Especially not for the bad choices of another person. Each of us decides for himself only.”

Some loud honking is behind us. An enraged Dug shakes his fist at us and insults us in Huttese. I catch nasty words as _“slimo”_ or _“schutta”_.

“Let me take this one!” Grim satisfaction swings in Aurra's voice.

I already hide my face behind my hands. “Stay gentle!”

“Suuuure!” she chirps and leans out of the window.

I start praying.

_“U kulle rah doe kankee kung. Da beesga coo palyeeya pityee bo tenya go kaka juju hoopa,”_ Aura purrs. _You are my kind of scum. The last fool who called me that got his antennae stuffed down his throat._

Some heartbeats later I hear the clatter of metal.

Our vehicle moves on.

“You are pretty touchy for a kindergarten teacher.”

I take my hands down again. “Is he alive?”

“His rust bucket is star dust, but he lies on his back, shrieking more dirty words. Pity you would not look!”

********************************************************************

The alarm from my chrono makes me sit up straight in a fright. I am not in my own bed. But then I remember, I have the spare code card of Rowana Halycon, an esteemed kindergarten colleague of mine. She wanted me to be her plant sitter for one week.

Relieved, I sink back. All is well, I am just in the flat of an acquaintance. Not in a sith crypt with zombies. Or in the grip of my maternal grandfather Cosinga Palpatine.

There is a Flimsi next to me on the sofa pillow. I suppose it is from Aura, but I leave it for now. Instead, I carefully put my feet on the gaudy rug and yawn. Then I mumble a kindergarten song of mine, trying to test out my voice.

_“The itsy bitsy spider went up the waterspout,_  
_down came the rain and washed the spider out._  
_Out came the sun and dried up the rain_  
_and the itsy bitsy spider went up the spout again.”_

When exactly I fell asleep, I do not recall. My memories of the rest of the evening are vague. There had been girl's talk with Aura of course, but there had also been some Corellian nectar. Somehow, after the third glass, I had managed to get into the bathroom and get ready for the night.

The comlink of my chrono goes on without warning. It is Jessica Reidia, my boss. “Nagina, do not come in today! There is a curfew for all Coruscant citizens.”

“Pardon me?” I try to comprehend what is happening.

Her voice is somewhat haunted. “Coruscant is under attack.”

I remain strangely calm. My uncle has led war in front of his own door step for a good reason. He always has one.

“The Supreme Chancellor has been kidnapped. Obviously by this Jedi killing machine Grievous.”

My mouth drops open.

This cannot be! The Kaalesh warrior would not dare.

The voice of my boss brings me back. “... Skywalker. Kenobi is with him.”

“Sorry,” I blush. “You lost me there. Can you repeat it?”

“Of course.” Her nervousness ebbs into my own consciousness. “The Jedi council sent Skywalker. To gain the Supreme Chancellor back. It is all over the news. Kenobi is with him.”

I bet that General Skywalker sent himself up there. And his former Jedi master just followed him in his wake, just to make sure that his usual aggressive negotiations do not get out of hand.

“See you tomorrow then.” I want to finish the call, let the refresher do its work. Perhaps then the universe will start making sense again.

“It depends on the rescue of our beloved Chancellor”, Jessica says hastily. “Until then the curfew is still valid.”

I wipe my eyes with the sleeves of my night gown. “They act as if our head of state is in grave danger.”

“Of course he is.” Her astonishment is hard to ignore. “Both that war monger and that alien cyborg monster are war criminals. Their cruelty is legend.”

It is nothing against my uncle's cruelty. He is their beast master. I ask myself if they are even aware how well he plays them. We all are just the ingredients he needs for his perfect dish.

“I am sure Palpatine will be fine.” I try to sound sympathetic. “His enemies have tried to get to him so many times during this dreadful civil war. He always came out of his trials, alive and well.”

“Nagina.” There is true reproach now. “Just yesterday you have seen him personally. The burden of his high office, the entire bloodshed of this war – all of this gnarls on his old bones.”

I want to tell her that my uncle is not that old. That it is but the dark side feeding on his life energy. His unholy pact has turned him into a vampire of sorts, feeding on others. Their pain, their tears. Even their inner light.

Jessica makes a sound that startles me. It is a heartbreaking sob. “I almost forgot, Mara's mother got killed last night. Child services just called me about it.”

********************************************************************

Mara an orphan. This looks like my uncle's handwriting. He surely wasted no time to ensure her everlasting company. I feel like slapping myself in the face very, very hard.

“Nagina?” My boss asks through my fury. “Are you okay?”

“I am not well,” I mumble somewhat mechanically. “I will get back to you later.”

With that I hang up on her, scramble out of the living-room. I waste no time with the fresher or to get dressed properly. Just in my night gown I storm into the entrance hall, grab my boots.

Suddenly, my eyes are drawn to the familiar shape. My uncle's coat? This cannot be.

I press a hand to my wild beating heart, return to the bed chamber.

My fingers are awfully sweaty when I pick up the flimsi.

I am not crossed with you. Do what you think is right, my little sun! Good luck! Love, Sheev XXX

No matter where I run, he will always find me. Even inside the apartment of a colleague that he does not know personally. Suddenly, I am afraid that he has bumped into poor Asajj and gotten hold of her as well. They sure have history.

I stumble into the entrance hall again, grab the cloak and let it surround me. In an instant the expensive fabric snuggles against my body, hides it like a dark waterfall.

As I touch the ancient brooch, a sith artefact, my fingers start burning. The pain is over in a few heartbeats. As a bastard daughter of House Palpatine I get accepted. My inner fury certainly helps out here.

I swing the large hood over my head. This should summon the twilight. I do not dare to call on my beloved moon goddess. By wearing this dammed coat, I have rendered myself unworthy of her guidance. Her mercy even.

In a haze, I put on my boots. Then I leave the flat, the building.

The streets are strangely empty, post-apocalyptic almost. I expect to bump into Korriban zombies at any given time.

For the first time in Coruscant history there is no public transport. The entire air space is closed down until further notice.

As I gaze into the sky, there is a giant space battle taking place. Somewhere out in this chaos, my uncle, no victim at all, still pulls the strings.

I take the slow descent into the lower city levels, which are as alive as usual. Down here nobody cares for the sun light or the war that set the galaxy burning. They do not mind the curfew. Their only concern is their own existence.

Pedestrians, aliens and humans alike, look right through me. I am but a passing shadow to them. Those Force-sensitive beings that feel me, just experience me as a shiver, as I walk by.

I also will not be on security cameras. Wearing my uncle's coat has turned me into some kind of ghost, a phantom menace.

Full of purpose, I walk through Coruscant's underworld. I, the gate keeper of House Palpatine, due to some strange twist of fate.

Finally, I sense the Jedi temple somewhere close to me.

********************************************************************

There is just one temple guard, which shows how careless and arrogant the Jedi order has become. I free myself from the hood, blink into the sun light. The sith brooch feels heavy so close to my throat.

The masked Jedi knight spots me immediately and approaches me. “There is a curfew,” he informs me crisply. “You should not be out on the streets, woman. Go home immediately!”

“You will let me inside, now!” I say sternly, putting as much conviction into my voice as possible.

He starts laughing, which almost startles me off my own feet. Then he takes his helmet off. I stare into an alien face, pale as death itself. The head is hairless. “The master knew you would try to come here.”

I take a step backwards, not able to look away from the yellowish sith eyes. My lips are glued together.

“I have a favourite quote. Let me share it with you: _It matters not how fast light may travel, darkness shall always be there awaiting its arrival._ ”

I am sure he waited for me as happily like a young sarlacc for its first snack ever.

“There are ancient prophecies and I am a believer,” he continues with a solemn face. “The entire temple guard will follow him.”

A desperate screech comes from the back of my throat.

“Go home before it's too late. This will be a house of the dead soon. I do not wish your precious blood on my hands.”

I gather all my strength and push the gates of my mind open.

He falls on his back and I start running.

Suddenly, I am three years old again and run from Cosinga, my maternal grandfather. The Jedi Temple has more stairs than Convergence, but I am a good short-distance runner.

There is a difference between a leather whip and a bolt of energy though. But the coat protects me and for the first time in my life I do not care which side of the Force is with me.

Zigzag I take step by step.

The ceasefire stops. “You are the prophet nobody will listen to!” my foe calls out to me. “The Republic is like an old giant tree, able to withstand attack from the outside but rotten from the inside. The master will lead all sentient beings into an age of glory.”

I swing around. “You are mad when you embrace such change. It is bought with innocent blood.”

“Survival of the fittest is the way of the dark side of the Force. This is the natural order, little kindergarten teacher.” He glowers up to me, his pale face alight with fanaticism. “You give false hope to your younglings.”

“There is always a new hope”, I shout. “As long as the universe keeps breeding stars, there will be light and a chance for life.”

In opposition to my own words, I plunge into the darkness that the coat offers me. I do not look back. It would achieve nothing.

Soon I have reached the top stair of the Jedi temple.

Nobody guards the entrance.

I vanish inside.

********************************************************************

Inside it feels like a giant mausoleum already. Like a mass grave that awaits its due corpses. I am appalled as much as I am sad.

Apart from young Jedi knights, barely grown into adulthood, and some younglings nobody else is around. Everybody else seems to be at the front lines.

Then I spot a familiar face, a true authority within the Jedi Order. “Master Windu!” I call out, as he hurries by. “A word if you please.”

The dark coloured human stops and frowns, not able to spot me.

I take off my hood. “There is a great threat to the Republic and to the Jedi Order.”

“Milady, it is you again!” he booms with his deep voice. I can tell that he remembers our last meeting on the temple steps as much as I do. “The chancellor has been taken hostage a couple of hours ago. The worst case scenario already has happened.”

“But the worst is yet to come,” I insist. “The Sith will take down the Jedi Order.”

From a corner of my left eye I see a familiar shape appear. It is the temple guard. He walks as if he has all the time in the world. In his steps swing the certainty of a winner.

Mace Windu looks at me like a Jedi healer who is dealing with a notorious lunatic. “There is no Sith order. I told you before. Their lot got destroyed many centuries ago. All the recent dark siders we encountered acted all by themselves. Lost individuals, nothing more.”

I wring my hands. “They are all but puppets, send by their powerful Sith master who does not really care for the Rule of the Two. He plays Dejarik too well to go for a simple strategy.”

His eyes are fixed on my brooch that gleams in the twilight of the hallway.

“Master Windu,” I beseech him, trying to distract him from that cursed object. “Our republic is run by a Sith lord. He must be stopped before it is too late.”

It takes some heartbeats before my words hit his consciousness like bomb shells. Then he gives me a forlorn look. “Guard, please bring this poor soul to a healer.”

My shoulders slump. “You just doomed the entire Jedi order.”

He takes a step forward and clutches my shaking hands. “Please get better soon! This war takes a toll on us all, twists our minds in dreadful ways.”

“Sheev Aurelius Cosinga Palpatine is a Sith lord more dangerous than Darth Bane and Darth Revan combined,” I scream, my voice echoing through the Jedi temple. “Please listen to me!”

For an instant Master Windu stops walking, then he shakes his head and walks off unconvinced.

I feel a kind hand on my shoulder. It is the temple guard.

“The shroud of the dark side has fallen. It drowns out the truth, hides the obvious. Can I walk you out, Nagina Cassandra Mandré Palpatine?”

“My mother's family name is Dorje. Not Palpatine!” I shake him off. “And do not ever dare to touch me again!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources: “Itsy bitsy spider”, a popular English nursery rhyme and finger play  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Enzyklopedia 
> 
> Inspirational song for this chapter: the score “Boe” by Murray Gold for the BBC series “Doctor Who, season 3”


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7:**

With hanging shoulders I make my way to Coruscant Park, one of the few places of greenery in the entire city. Apart from the colourful spectacle up in space with all its explosions and debris raining down into the Coruscanti atmosphere, it is a quiet day. There is still no air traffic in this area.

I wonder what my uncle has in mind. He lets himself be kidnapped by one of the most incompetent cyborgs that I know: General Grievous. At least Count Dooku can think straight. For a Sith apprentice he is relatively composed, having his feelings in check all the time.

When I sit down on a public bench, a stone cubus, I notice a little bulk inside my uncle's coat. I fumble around for a while and finally get hold of a chocolate bar. It is in a side pocket. Attached to it is a flimsi note.

_Told you so before: nobody is interested in the truth these days. This is what makes it so easy. I am sorry about last night. We talk soon!_   
_Love, Sheev XXX_

I lift my gaze upwards into the sky. The battle field is too close to home. I hope that my uncle does not plan to blast the entire Senate building and the living-quarters of the government members into oblivion.

With a deep sigh, I open the chocolate bar and start munching on it.

I do not know much about warfare, but the ones responsible seem not to know about such things either. The pilots seem to fire at random at anything that flies past them, even their own people.

“Nagina!”

“Rorak!” I beam, recognizing the speaker at once. He is the elder brother of one of my current kindergarten children.

“What's up?” the nine year old human asks, trying to play it cool. A typical CoCo town boy. Tough from the outside, yet a heart of gold.

“A space battle above us,” I reply pointing upwards with my thumb.

“I mean, what's up with you, not with the Chancellor.” He looks slightly flustered.

“Oh, I am doing okay!”

It does not sound convincing to him. Most children are the perfect lie detectors. Rorak sits down next to me, staring at my chocolate-smeared fingers. Then his gaze travels on. I can tell that he does notice that I am wearing a night gown underneath a coat that is atypically for me in style.

I close my eyes for a brief heart beat, knowing that I am busted. When they snap open again, I ask, “No school today?”

“You are kidding, right? Those separatists took down our government.”

I wish I could tell him that my uncle is about to do that himself. But I am still not sure how. The extinction of the Jedi is one thing, but he needs more than that. A pompous space battle does not seem the right tool. There must be more to it. He likes complicated schemes, never goes for the obvious.

Suddenly, I spot a treacherous object. It sticks out of a side pocket of Rorak's somewhat baggy trousers. It is a spray can.

My gaze wanders on to the bag back he carries with him. It seems to be stuffed with more cans.

I grin, because I just recovered the obvious.

Rorak is a graffiti artist. The evidence of his art can be seen on a sitting cubus opposite to us.

If the local graffiti scene would help me in making the devious nature of my uncle known, I still could turn the tables around. But then again, I would have the blood of innocent youngsters on my hands. It is not worth the price.

I reach deep inside me, to play the last Sabbac card that I have. “Your uncle still has this interplanetary moving service, right?”

He nods.

“Do you think he could help me to get my stuff to Lothal once the battle above comes to an end?”

Rorak is deeply shocked. “You want away? Just like this?”

“After what has happened today, I cannot stay on.”

The truth is that I need to make the move on my own. I do not need the notorious Red Guard to pack my moving boxes for me.

A smile blooms on my lips.

At least I can be one step ahead of my uncle with something so trivial. And it gives me the chance to be a person on my own account. This way I can defy his darkness most.

Rorak insists on me calling him via HoloNet on my moving day. “You cannot vanish out of our lives without a decent good-bye party. Please give my mother and the other parents the chance to arrange something!”

********************************************************************

I make my way to the senate building, keen on confronting my uncle with my choice to do his bidding. Once this whole orchestrated drama is over, he will crawl back into his expensive flat in the 500 Republica building. But I would rather wait for him in his official residence and principal workplace inside the Senate Anex. I need to repay him his visit at the kindergarten anyway.

To get into the Republic Office Building, also known as Executive Annex Dome, is all too easy. My Sith cloak does excellent work.

Once I am inside, I take down the hood again, but this does not change my situation. People do not look at me. Office staff hurries past me, countless prominent senators discuss the kidnapping of the Supreme Chancellor.

I pause to get some water from a public drinking fountain.

There is a rustle of robes behind me. “Take you time!” says a pleasant male voice.

When I finally turn around, I am faced with a tall human who has a neatly trimmed beard. His skin has quite a taint. Wearing wearing elegant and meticulous clothes, he holds himself with an air of true royalty.

“Mistress Anil!” The joy of Senator Bail Prestor Organa is for real, even though it slightly startles me to hear the name of my beloved foster parents. “What a nice surprise! I have not seen you since the _'Resilience for Kids and Teens'_ campaign.”

I am positively surprised. “But that is more than twelve years ago.”

His smile is as sweet as caramel fudge. “I always remember a passionate speaker, Mistress Anil. Especially, when it is about child care and education. A subject that matters to my dear wife, too.”

I blush deeply, not knowing what to answer to such an exhilarating praise.

Always a true gentleman, the Alderanian prince wants to help me out of my misery. “Are you free this afternoon?”

I am completely lost due to so much charm and friendliness, but I stick to one of the major rules that Boba once taught me nevertheless. The one that I need to execute right away when I ever fall into the hands of an enemy. “I had an appointment, but I fear it will not go through.” My upsetment is not acted, even though it has a different source. “The space battle above gave me an unexpected rain check.”

“I had a meeting with the Supreme Chancellor scheduled in the morning. Alas, it never went through as you can imagine. General Grievous was quicker with his own day planner.” A boyish grin appears on his lips. “I am afraid his secretary never called mine.”

I cannot help it, but I burst out in laughter until tears roll down my eyes. It is not his joke I laugh about though. We both are interested to see my uncle today. He cannot know that.

Some passing politicians give me dark looks, but Senator Organa grins along and offers me his arm. “What about a nice luncheon together? For the sake of old times, Mistress Anil?”

I am desperate to give him my husband's name, but it feels quite soothing hearing the name of a family that took me in as their own about thirty-three years ago. People, who formed me with their love and kindness.

********************************************************************

To my delight we do not end up in an office or the famous Cantham House, but in a private apartment at the 500 Republica.

Senator Organa's smile is apologetic. “As of late I prefer to take lunch at home,” he explains. “The senate cantina gives me a headache. We have enough fierce discussions in the pitch already.”

The pitch.

I assume that he refers to the large, rotund Galactic Senate Chamber. It has indeed the resemblance of an arena.

The memories attack me with no warning.

_The Petranaki arena on Geonosis. Dead bodies and parts of destroyed droids everywhere. A pale Boba holding his father's severed head in his arms, not wanting to depart from it. Me talking to the distressed boy in a sweet, soothing way, using all my hard won expertise in child psychology._

I cannot be in that dark place for long. Instead, I fully concentrate on items of the Living Force such as the Alderaanian prince standing next to me.

“May I have your coat?” he asks.

Remembering, that I am wearing but a night gown under my uncle's loan, I kindly decline his offer. “No, thank you. I am a bit cold today.”

He does not doubt my decision, leaves it for what it is. “Normally, I would invite my staff to join me, but today I have sent all of them on some urgent errands.” He peels out of his heavy office robe and hangs it up neatly. “And my wife has a doctor's appointment. Normally, I would have spoken to her via the HoloNet. Especially on a day like this, with the Chancellor missing and Coruscant under direct attack by the Separatists.”

Under all his layers of confidence, I feel his loneliness and yearning for Queen Breha Organa.

“It is just a routine screening. No need to worry,” he tells me, acting brave and unconcerned. “The Force itself sent you to me today, Mistress Anil. What can I offer you?”

After my long walk, I need something vitalizing. Something to keep me going until sun set. “Tea would be very nice.”

“Chianar lemon grass or Aldera rose petal?”

“The lemon grass, please.”

“Certainly.”

While Senator Organa rushes off to oblige me, his movements and his stance hint at field experience in battle. He is more than a mere desk criminal.

I start wandering around his large living-room, bathed in light and beauty.

Several landscape paintings catch my eyes. They all mirror Alderaan's beauty: the proud mountain chains and the grass sea. After a while my eyes follow the flow of a painted river. The water races happily down-hill, sparkling and roaring.

Reminded of Naboo out of a sudden, homesickness spreads. My breath comes in raggedy gasps, hurting my chest.

The Lake Country has mighty waterfalls like that. In its lush, emerald fields I have had countless picnics with my uncle, unseen by prying eyes. Save at distance from Convergence I had learned swimming. He had read from my favourite children books, while I had been nestled in his lap. I had felt like a little princess, his princess. He had been my gallant knight.

I give a little ratchety sob.

My mind reels through the images of quality time spent together with my uncle. Back then he had been full of laughter and sunlight. I had be keen on touching his red mane continuously and he would let me. In those days of innocence, he had been obliging to most of my wishes.

I wonder if he can forgive me that I am making a house visit to one of his greatest critics of late.

There is a glass bowl on a side table, Rominaria blossoms swim in it. Their sweet scant brings up more childhood memories.

I pick one of the blossoms up, hold it in my hands.

The ties between my home world and Alderaan have always been strong. They date back thousands of years, straight back to the time of the inglorious Sith Wars.

It was not wise of Sheev to turn the Alderaanian prince – current heir to the chalcedony star - into an enemy. History should have taught him, that House Organa will always remember the Sith Empire invasion. There is hope left to find an open ear for the things that I have to tell, need to get rid off.

I stand very still and quiet, and can hear my treacherous heart thudding beneath my nightgown. New tears gather in my eyes, run down my cheeks.

“Mistress Anil, are you okay?”

Senator Organa puts the tea tray down, strides towards me.

More tears drip down my cheeks as he gently pats my back. He seems professionally accustomed to offering comfort.

“T-t-this painting here reminds me of home.” My shaking right hand points at a wavy grass sea.

“You grew up on Chandrilla, didn't you?” he inquires softly, handing me a handkerchief with his family crest on it.

“Partly, but originally, I am from Naboo.”

My revelation makes him smile somewhat triumphantly. “This explains your Sanskrit family name. I always wondered how you came by it.”

“Oh, my original family name is Dorje.” Now the krayt dragon is basically out of its cave. I might as well tell him the whole story, but in the short, processed version. “There was never a father, not in the birth certificate anyway. My mother was a free spirit. She died when I was very young. A work place accident, they say. The city of Theed found me a kind foster-family immediately.”

“A foster-family.” The keen glitter in his eyes tells me that he has considered adoption. That he is willing to change some of Alderaan's traditions for his wife.

“I have not been on my birth planet for decades,” I tell him. “Not since Chetan and Gita Anil had moved to Chandrila with me. I was five years old back then.”

“Is this why you wanted to become a kindergarten teacher?” he asks, while he leads me to one of the comfortable looking sofas. “Because of all the good that you were allowed to experience?”

“No, my uncle somewhat nudged me into the pedagogical world.” I still try a slow approach to the drama that is going on. Too hasty explanations would ruin everything. “He is twenty-three years my senior, even though he looks much older than me. I am forty by the way.”

Senator Organa says nothing and looks somewhat lost. When I sink onto the sofa, he takes up a seat opposite to me.

“You know,” I say and my voice is awfully hoarse, “The dark side eats my uncle up from the inside out. This is why he seems to be so much older than his actual sixty-three years. In a couple of years he might be looking as bad as Darth Sion, the Lord of Pain.”

“Darth Sion,” he echoes, stretching each syllable. “D-a-r-t-h.”

“A living nightmare in form of a zombie warrior.” I place a shivering hand on my fast-beating heart, the tell-tale traitor par excellence. “The Sith never stopped existing. After the explosion of the thought bomb on the battle fields of Ruusan Darth Bane recognized that infighting had destroyed the Sith. He found an orphan girl named Rain. Inspired by her, he created a new Sith philosophy. It is called the 'Rule of the Two'. My uncle believes in it as much as his old master before him. There can be only two true Sith at a given time: a Master to embody power and an apprentice to crave it.”

A confusion array of emotions rushes over his features. Finally, a hard line presses in his mouth. I fear that it is dismay.

Even though I squirm and fidget in my seat, I find the courage to move on. Many lives depend on what I have to say. If I can only save a few Jedi knights, the darkness will not win.

“I know your family remembers Darth Malgus and the pain he brought to Alderaan centuries ago. This is why I accepted your invitation.”

Immediately, Senator Organa sits forward, his brow crinkled. “You seem to know an awful lot about the Sith and their bleak history for a kindergarten teacher.”

Heat suffuses my cheeks. “I am the daughter of a servant girl, but my maternal grandfather was Cosinga Nero Ignatius Palpatine.” Now I have reached the point of no return. My hands cramp together in my lap. “I am here to tell you that his oldest son Sheev, my uncle, is the Sith lord who is responsible for the Clone War that tears us all apart.”

********************************************************************

After the first shock has ebbed away my host reaches over to squeeze my hands. “Normally, I do not drink any alcohol before dinner.” His gaze is warm. It holds but deepest respect for me. “But right now we need something stronger than herbal tea.”

I watch Senator Organa getting up. He walks to a small cupboard, where he puts a fragile looking decanter and two elegant glass tumblers on a silver tray. He comes straight back to me. Fascinated, I stare at the golden liquid he pours for me.

“Alderaanian whiskey,” he explains. “You need that right now.”

This is an observation I cannot argue with.

He pours himself a glass while I pick up mine. His toast is brief, somewhat restrained. “To honesty! And courage in dire situations.”

While I savour the strong, yet comforting whiskey taste in my mouth, I let him do the talking.

“First, I want to offer you my honest condolences.”

I raise an eye brow. “You make it sound as if my uncle is already dead.”

“You have lost him to the dark side a while ago. You know it to be true. Otherwise we would not have this conversation.” His hands, big and gentle, close around mine once more. “The monster that he turned into might outlive us all.”

“To me he is no monster. He is just my uncle. A man who chose the wrong path.” I close my eyes, my voice starting to quiver. “I cannot help it. I... I love him so much. Still.”

“Yet you mastered the strength to contact me. For which I am grateful. I promise that I will deal carefully with the information that you gave me. Most citizens of this Republic would not grasp the gravity of your accusations, but I do. And so will my secret allies.”

I clear my throat, distance myself from my host. “So, what will you do?” I sigh. “What can your secret allies do? Even Master Windu was not willing to listen to me. I tried four times since the Siege of Naboo.”

He gives me a crooked smile. “Mace is not the right Jedi for this particular matter. I will try to contact Master Yoda before he travels to Kashyyyk. He is more open minded.”

The famous Master Yoda, an ancient Jedi knight from an unknown species. Each time I gaze at him on the HoloNews I am reminded of a pixie. Those mythical creatures of Naboo folklore are generally benign and short of stature. They are usually described with pointed ears, wearing dirty bundles of rags for clothing.

“I tried to get an appointment with Master Yoda,” I confess. “But I never managed. He was either too busy teaching, in deep meditation or away on war business.”

His broad smile makes me feel confident again. “This time your voice will be heard. I will make sure that the right Jedi will listen to what you have to say.”

********************************************************************

Within the next ten minutes Senator Organa gets in contact with a food delivery service. While we are put on hold a contemplative instrumental score plays in the background.

“My friend Padmé is not a great cook,” he confides in me, which is rather unexpectedly. “Therefore she trusts this particular delivery service with all her heart. It is located in Level 3204.”

The famous Level 3204. It is mostly occupied by original residents from Alderaan. Beautiful park landscapes and community centres thrive in their little corner of Coruscant. It is a lovely area. I have been down there with my current kindergarten group several times.

The thought of my wards, especially of little Mara with her big jade eyes, feels like a light sabre blade stabbed inside my heart. I will not leave the planet before I know that she is alright. My uncle owes me some urgent explanations. If he will not indulge me, I prepared to play one of the dirtiest sabbac cards I have left: the Child Protective Services. I am not totally without connections.

“Would you mind traditional Alderaanian dishes?”

My host's question tears me away from all the sorrow and concern inside me. “Not at all,” I answer.

“So it is flatbread and Alderaan stew with nerf meat then.”

I nod to confirm his choice.

“And starblossom with vanilla custard for dessert.”

I smile, infusing as much happiness as I can into my gaze.

********************************************************************

When the door bell sounds, Senator Organa runs to answer it. Discreetly, he pays the delivery boy at the entrance door and returns to me with the food. The scents are familiar and comforting.

My teaching years on Alderaan had been the best of my life. For five years I had lived in Aldera, the planet's capital, were all education is free. Even ordinary people volunteer to teach various skills or crafts just for fun. This dedication had reminded me so much of Naboo.

We eat in contemplative silence, which does me good.

Words carry too much impact at times. Besides, there is no need for my host to know all the secrets of my uncle. Most of them are closely linked to mine, such as my acquaintanceship with some of the galaxy's greatest villains and agitators.

Outside the flat, Coruscant is still in uproar.

I think it is unwise that Skywalker is in for my uncle's rescue. I do admire his bravery and battle skills, but there always seems a path of destruction around him. People end up broken in pieces or even dead. The past two years the famous 'Hero with no fear' has developed more and more into a brutal killing machine. War darkens hearts.

An old poem comes to mind, one that my uncle always liked very much. As I savour my Alderaan stew, I quote the lyrics in my own head. Let them echo though my troubled mind.

_“O for a voice like thunder and a tongue_   
_To drown the throat of war! - When the senses_   
_Are shaken, and the soul is driven to madness,_   
_Who can stand! When the souls of the oppressed_   
_Fight in the troubled air that rages, who can stand?..._   
_When sin claps his broad wings over the battle,_   
_And sails rejoicing in the flood of Death;_   
_When souls are torn to ever lasting fire,_   
_And fiends of hell rejoice upon the slain,_   
_O who can stand? O who hath caused this?_   
_O who can answer at the throne of God?_   
_The Kings and Nobles of the Land have done it!_   
_Hear it not, Heaven, thy Ministers have done it!”_

At least I have one person in the galaxy who believes me. Who really considers that my uncle is the constructor of the Clone Wars and all the misery that goes with it. Senator Organa even grasps the fact that we are dealing with the resurrection of the Sith.

Not before we reach our dessert, the star blossoms, he asks me casually, “Are you sure that you do not want to get rid of your coat?”

I am uncomfortably aware that I am sweating like an ill-conditioned eopie. But my answer has to be negative. Underneath the Sith cloak I am wearing my night gown still and high leather boots.

My host seems not willing to drop the matter. “When you left your flat today, you did not even bother to dress properly, did you?”

I am dumbfounded. His power of observation scares me slightly. “It is not even my coat,” I whisper, my cheeks burning like fire. “Or my own night gown.”

He does not question me where I spent the night. A fact that I am grateful for.

“Here is what we do, Mistress Dorje.” He glances at his chrono. “You can use my bathroom for a refreshing sonic shower, while I have a word with my wife. When you have finished your morning toilette, there will be fresh clothing waiting for you.”

I flush. “Your Serene Highness, I could not possibly...”

He extends his right hand to me. “It is Bail.”

Overwhelmed, I exchange a hand shake with him. “Nagina,” I squeak and shyly look up to him.

“You need to be in a good shape for the things to come.” The kindness in his eyes makes my knees weak. “If Breha was here, she would agree with me. The secret of success on Coruscant is a decent wardrobe. At least here in the political arena.”

If that is true, I ask myself why nobody has seen the metamorphosis that my uncle did undergo the past three years. To me it was more than visible through colour, ornament and texture. The advanced decay of his inner character had happened in plain sight, and nobody did ever take notice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> Prologue to "King Edward the Fourth" by the English poet, painter, and printmaker William Blake (1757 – 1827)  
> The disease ostia-phromitia was invented by Briannakin for her SW fanfiction “So Much More Than Fairytales: The Courtship of Prince Bail” by Briannakin  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Enzyklopedia
> 
> Inspirational song for this chapter:  
> “La Serenissima” by Loreena McKennitt


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8:**

Not even Alderaanians can be formal all the time, but they still aim for stylish even with their casual looks.

I hope the house dress, lying on the bed next to me, will fit me. Its fabric feels nice between my fingertips. I wonder if it will be the same on my skin. But what I like most about it is the midnight blue colour.

Flustered, I stand in front of the mirror.

Due to my huge cup size, I was forced to put on a corset and hold-up stockings. This makes me feel like one of those night flower's of the lower Coruscanti levels. At least my breasts are back in order again and nicely pushed up.

Once the dress hides my chubby figure, I nod to myself in acknowledgement. “Hi there, Nagina!” I say to myself. “Long time no see.”

The last item in disarray is my long brown hair. I decide for a simple chinion. It is a quick and satisfying procedure.

There is a polite knock from the door. “Nagina, can I come in yet?”

“Of course you can,” I assure Bail.

He steps into the room, smiling at once at my appearance. “If you do not mind, my wife would like to re-animate your acquaintance with her.”

Nervously, I follow him into his small home office.

Queen Breha, even though shrunken to a blue miniature holo, is a beautiful woman. Her kindness surrounds her like a halo. “Mistress Dorje, I am to understand that you sacrifice somebody who is dear to you for the sake of the Republic.”

I bite my lip. Of course, Bail told her about my uncle. It would have been the first thing that I would have told Barin, if my husband was still alive. “Yes, Your Majesty,” I press out.

“Call me Breha!” Her intelligent, brown eyes gaze at me from a distance of many light years.

Like a supportive friend, Bail steps next to me.

“It takes extreme courage to stand up against a beloved person,” his wife continues. “Especially when you know this person to do something wrong and evil.”

Of course, it is not that simple. When my uncle is involved, life stops being simple.

Breha's smile is radiant nonetheless. It is the smile of true loyalty, of a saint. “I will pray for your well-being in the time to come, my dear Nagina.”

Her prayers will achieve nothing for my fate, I am afraid. I am bound for Lothal. Suddenly, my mouth is dry and I feel it hard to swallow. It seems like I used up all my inner liquid through crying earlier on. “Do not worry for me,” I say in a low voice. “How do you fare these days?”

Bail exchanges a noticeable gaze with his wife.

“It was just a routine examination,” she answers.

I hesitate before speaking. It is as if my life is on a hinge. I can push it one way or the other. Trust and go mad. Distrust and go mad. But in the end the Royal Family of Alderaan deserves nothing but honesty from me at this point.

“Via his spies, my uncle has found out that you suffer from ostia-phromitia, a rare auto-immune disease that affects the bones. It forces you to live on strong medication for the rest of your life. A side effect of your pills are reduced fertility and, in case of a pregnancy, miscarriage.”

(http://boards.theforce.net/threads/...nce-bail-bail-breha-completed.50030397/page-4)

Next to me Bail sucks his breath in, while Breha looks shaken.

“You need to re-check your staff, re-think your communication channels,” I advise them both. My voice gets a feeble touch to it. “I am so sorry.”

“Don't be!” Bail squeezes my left shoulder assuringly. “You cannot help that you are the niece of a power hungry, all consuming Sith lord.”

“You confirmed to us that the Sith are back.” There is a hard edge in Breha's otherwise charming voice. “Alderaanians will always rage against the dying of the light. There will not be another Sith empire. Never again!”

********************************************************************

Whispering endearing words to his wife, Bail is about to finish the HoloCall. I can see love and worry struggling for mastery on his face. He does not move, but goes on looking at her.

“Come on, hotshot!” Queen Breha casts a lopsided smile. “Cut the connection! At present Nagina needs you more than I do. Let us talk later!”

He smiles back at her, a slow, rich curve of infinite promise. I blush and avert my gaze.

“B, you are impossible!” she laughs.

With that his fingers finally do her bidding. Her bright holo disappears. He clears his throat and switches back into a business like mood. “You and I should see some of my most trusted friends this afternoon,” he addresses me.

I think of Senator Amidala of Naboo, who is too close to my uncle for these many years. “The less I know about your secret allies, the better. It will be bad enough if my uncle finds out that I was with you.”

He chuckles. “This was an education conference, right? You are not happy with the new education reform and since we have known each other a couple of years, you visited me to rant about it.”

His confidence calms me. Being an important and influential political figure himself, Senator Organa is not afraid of my uncle. Alderaan is among the oldest members of the Republic. Even for a Sith it is difficult to move against the popular leader of such an influential planet. The prince also possesses rhetorical skills that could humiliate any possible prosecutors.

“Let's go, Nagina! I will lead the way, if you don't mind. There are short cuts throughout the building. Obi-Wan showed them to me.”

I am stirred out of his apartment, but have enough sense left to take the Sith cloak with me. I tuck it under my left arm, feeling it against the rhythm of my anxious heart.

Our walk back into the centre of chaos is brief.

********************************************************************

Today the Republic Executive Building is the busiest place on Coruscant. People, humans, aliens and humanoids alike hurry through its hallways. I feel like being inside a hive full of panicked honeybees, because their precious queen got stolen by intruders. Even Senator Organa, a man of great authority, has to watch out that nobody runs into him.

“There is news, Bail,” a red-haired woman addresses him out of a sudden and drags him into an alcove of sorts. I bound after them.

It takes me some heart beats to recognize Senator Mon Mothma, the official representative of Chandrila. Her simple hairstyle is in strong contrast with her outfit. She is adorned in an elegant robe of fleuréline weave, a shraa silk mantle, and a hanna pendant.

“Have Kenobi and Skywalker saved the Chancellor yet?” Bail inquires, clutching on to her hands.

“The command ship of Grievous is falling out of the sky,” the Chandrilan politician answers, her mouth a joyless line. “The HoloNet feed of the Senate says so. It seems like Skywalker does one of his unorthodox flight manoeuvres. Large parts of CoCo Town are supposed to be burning.”

My hands are clutching at the front of my Alderaanian house dress, kneading the fabric.

My uncle cannot, will not die. The dark side of the Force is a pathway to abilities that some consider unnatural. It always has helped him to bend the rules, lately all of them. He will trick death. In one way or the other he will prevail.

Suddenly, I feel the cool gaze of Senator Mon Mothma on me. “Who is your companion, Bail? I am sure we never met before.”

With a nod, he invites me closer, puts a supportive hand on my back. “This is Nagina, his niece.”

The Chandrilan politician looks at me incredulously. “Palpatine has no family left. Everybody knows that. They disappeared in space, while they were on a holiday cruise.”

I want to flee out of the senate building, even off this planet. Instead, I have to stand my ground once more. The more insight I will offer others, the better they can understand the danger that a Sith lord poses for his entire environment.

“Sheev murdered the lot of them, starting with his father,” I state in a low voice, glancing along the busy hallway. I am glad that I sound steadier than I feel.

Senator Mon Mothma shakes her head, refusing to believe me. In her eyes I am an imposter. “Neither the ship nor its passengers were ever found,” she claims. “There must have been a flaw in their navigational system and they came too close to a supernova.”

“The only supernova at work was the dark side.” I look from face to face, feeling the space shrink around me. So many bad memories, buried under layers of shock. “My uncle always had a knack for it, but it was the tutelage of Hego Damask alias Darth Plageius that introduced him to the Sith religion.”

“The Sith. Seriously?” Her voice takes on a compassionate tone. “Bail, do I really have to listen to this woman? This is like a history lesson in school.”

“I fear you have to pay heed to Nagina.” His eyes are fuller and sharper now, illuminated by a light that seems familiar to me. The light side of the Force is with him. “The Jedi Order has wronged her many years, actually since the unfortunate embargo on Naboo. Please do show her more fairness!”

His direct support is more heartening than I reckon and his kind gaze almost too much to bear.

The Chandrilan politician shifts her body, flexes her fingers. “On your behalf I am willing to listen to her, Bail. Let us go to my office!”

I notice a sign that reads 'Congressional Prayer Room'. The decision is an easy one. “No, your office will be wired as well,” I state.

Agape, she stares at me.

“My uncle never trusted you, Senator.” My gaze does not waver. “Like him you have red hair. He thinks that makes you too cunning, too resourceful.”

Senator Mon Mothma takes a deep breath, but her expression does not change. “Is there a safe place anywhere in this building?”

“There.” I point towards the Congressional Prayer Room. “We better get in there and talk.”

Mirth twinkles in her eyes. “I reckon religion does not interest your uncle.”

“Unless it is the Sith religion, no.”

Right now it would be fatal to mention the Sith shrine right under the Jedi temple. There will be other occasions. I am sure of it. One thing at a time. I want them to believe me, not to bring me to a madhouse.

********************************************************************

The Congressional Prayer Room is a place set aside for the use of senate members who seek a quiet place for meditation or prayer. It can be used by any Senator or Representative regardless of his or her faith. The interfaith design is integral to the vision of religious freedom. The simple furnishings include two prayer benches, six chairs, two candles, plants, and a flag of the Galactic Republic.

Among scented candles and empty benches I tell the full version of my tale. Bail is shocked, but the sympathy in his gaze deepens with each word that leaves my lips.

It is different for Senator Mon Mothma though. Her hands are shaking in her lap. I can tell that she is furious. It is not a story to her liking, because it forces her to see my uncle in a different light. The cunning villain is a victim of childhood abuse. That fact does not minimize the gruesomeness of his crimes, but it shows that he once was a human being. She would have preferred it to see him just as the pure personification of evil, a phantom menace really.

When I reach the story part where I went to the Jedi temple and got rejected by Master Windu, the double door swings open.

Three women walk in. Their dark cloaks help them to blend into the shadows. They move like one. I recognize each of them immediately, even though their faces are hidden by their hoods.

“Mon!” one of them calls out. “Bail!”

“What brings you here on this eventful day, my dear Padmé?” he prompts.

Quickly, Senator Amidala pulls her hood down. Heirloom suspensas dangle from her ears. Her brown hair is done in an elaborate Naboo hairstyle that I would not want to wear in a thousand years.

It takes her a bit too long to come up with a reasonable answer. I detect anxiety behind her cool composure. “I wanted to pray to Shiraya, the moon goddess of my ancestors,” she tells us, without really looking at me.

Mon Mothma is not overly optimistic. “Prayers do not help against the evil that is unleashed up there in the skies. Many Coruscanti died today,” she says in a choked voice. “Hit by debris of the battle.”

“Once I thought that Palpatine was to bring sanity and compassion back into our midst. Since his election the universe has turned upside down.”

Saying thus, Senator Amidala passes me in her wake, still not acknowledging me. To her I am just another background person and I think it is wise to let her think that. The former puppet queen of Naboo might be still under my uncle's influence like so many in the senate these days.

Suddenly, I am drawn to her hands. All features subside beneath the swelling. As a kindergarten teacher, who has to deal with a lot of females from different species, I can read and interpret the signs. They are subtle, but they are there.

My eyes move on to her belly that is perfectly hidden in a stiff, formal frock.

Shyly, I reach out in the Force, just to find silence.

The power this child holds is either a threat for my uncle's reign or a key to success.

Instead, the Force presence of my uncle flares in my chest like a star. I am the only being in the galaxy who can feel him, a dark shadow against the stars. Soon all beings in the galaxy will feel his existence, whether they want to or not.

“So close,” I mutter. Aloud I say, “If you would excuse me. It is time for me to go home now. Thanks for your open ear about the education reform, senators. A good day to you!”

Before anyone can hinder me, I slip out of the prayer room. From the corner of my eye, I catch a swirl of violet and gold.

“That the two of us should meet again so soon!” a man's voice says, deep and silken.

********************************************************************

Prince Xizor smiles, showing white teeth in a dangerously beautiful face. His lavender eyes rake me slowly from head to toe, travelling with a sort of appreciation over my Alderaanian outfit. When he has finished his evaluation, he bows, hand over his reptile heart. “What a splendid surprise!”

With all the willpower I can summon, I curtsy and make my voice cool, “Your Majesty!”

He is not astonished that I know exactly who he is. “What brings you here on this day?” he inquires, while I bet that he allows more of his potent pheromones to seep into the air.

I cross my arms protectively in front of me, afraid he might take my hands and kiss them. Right now, I will not have his lips anywhere on my skin.

My time window closes in on me. I must make some concessions now or I will miss my uncle in the hangar area. “If being Captain for the Black Sun does not keep you too busy, Your Majesty, then you can take me out for dinner tomorrow night.”

His grin flashes again. “You are full of surprises.”

“It is a family trait, I suppose. My mother had it. I have it. And my uncle Sheev Palpatine has it, too.” Saying this saves us both the involvement of torture and DNA tests. “If you would excuse me now. He does not like to be kept waiting for me!”

“No, he does not,” confirms Bail who is suddenly at my side and offers me his arm. “Let us go together, Nagina! I am sure the Prince knows where you live and what sort of food you like best.”

We hurry away, a pair of considering reptile eyes drilling into our backs. Then I hear Prince Xizor laugh hysterically as if somebody has told him the joke of his life.

“Dangerous individuals seem to gather around you,” Bail comments. “Your uncle should be more protective about you.”

I shrug. “In my field of educational work fear is not even a consideration. I simply do things that feel right.”

“This Falleen noble man is bad news, Nagina. As head of Xizor Transport Systems he has already become a trillionaire in the last years of the Galactic. He can buy almost anyone at any time.”

The blood rushes through my head in a more normal pace again. “I am not for sale,” I say wryly.

Bail tries to smile, but fails. I hear a long sigh shift through his nostrils. “Do not mistake him with the greatest rascal of your current kindergarten group. All that he wants is you and I do not know for what purpose. But it has to do with your uncle.”

“Meeting Sheev seems to be a hobby of his”

“His rise to power has not come unnoticed. Perhaps a hand offered in marriage is Xizor's aim.”

“Mine,” I conclude.

“I hope you have not considered it as an option.”

“No,” I can assure him. “I am a widow and there shall be no man at my side ever again. Certainly not a lizard.”

“I cannot help it, but the closer we come into your uncle's reach, the more rebellious you get.”

I straighten slowly. A half smile splits my lips. “My trauma therapist would call it overcompensation. See, I have been silent all those years, accepting things for what they were. Since last night I feel like kicking...”

We have reached the hangar hall, and I am surprised to see the seize of the welcome committee. So many political heads, all bedazzled by the greatest master of puppets alive. I should have chosen a political career instead of helping young children to develop into strong personalities.

In the universe that my uncle is going to create, my former wards will struggle for survival like everybody else.

“It is better for me to wait in his office,” I murmur, seeing Master Windu among the waiting crowd.

“Are you sure?” inquires Bail and poses a kind hand on my left shoulder.

“I am,” I state and search his eyes. “I am also asking you not to involve Senator Amidala in your plans. Excitement of any kind is bad for her at the end stage of her pregnancy.”

“Padmé... pregnant?” he gapes.

I put a finger on my lips in kindergarten style. “If she did not tell you, she wants to keep the father secret and perhaps the entire pregnancy. It is the right of every Naboo woman to act as she pleases with a love affair.”

He ponders on that, before finally asking, “Does your uncle know?”

“Sheev helped my mother, his bastard half-sister, to cover up her pregnancy about forty-one years ago. Of course he knows about Amidala's meek hide-and-seek attempts.”

From the corner of my left eye, I see the current senator of Naboo sneak around the huge pillars. Her handmaidens are not with her. This is almost unheard of. They walk almost everywhere with her in public. They are her chaperones, her body guards, her beauty team.

I must find out why Senator Amidala is here, hiding in plain sight but just eight feet away from me.

********************************************************************

From the moment my uncle shows up on the ramp of his transporter, Bail joins his fellow politicians. That gives me the opportunity to vanish behind one of the pillars as well and struggling into the Sith cloak. The black, non glossy fabric with its square waffle styled weaves engulfs me once more. I fasten the silver brooch. Now I am truly invisible.

Sheev smiles nonetheless when he passes me. He can feel me in the Force. My heart beat is attuned to his. He does not send me a telepathical message, not regarding it as the most necessary means of communications between us. His order to me still stands. I am to pack my belongings for Lothal.

When the welcome committee and their guest of honour are out of view, I notice that General Skywalker has not gone with them. He zooms towards the former queen of Naboo and rushes into her arms.

I am to witness the worst kept secret in the universe. In plain day light they show their affection to one another. Anyone could walk into them at any given time.

My stomach makes a total flip flop.

It is known that a Jedi shall not know Fear. Or Hate. Or Love. It has been thus since the Sith empire had been literally crumpled to dust on Ruusan.

'The Hero with no Fear', my personal crush since the past two years, is dangerously close to being expelled by the Jedi order forever more. An affair – passionate and intense for the time being – is one thing, but attachment is totally out of question. The way they hold one another even hints to the possibility of marriage bonds between them.

I need to stabilize my weak knees by holding on to the pillars.

The past ten years my uncle has groomed General Skywalker. He has also hinted out to me that his own son is but a waste of time. Would he dare to kill his true heir, brought into life in unnatural ways, for a more promising acolyte like the young general? He knows that he never can rule his Sith empire with me at his side.

While more love vows and other sweet nonsense are exchanged, I grow unsettled. The only way to find out more about my uncle's plans is to go to him and ask politely. In that respect he is as vain as an eopie. He would consider it rude not to answer me.

********************************************************************

Of course Dar Wac, a male Rodian, works at his desk in the lobby that leads to my uncle's Executive Office.

“A good day to you,” I greet him enthusiastically, trying to be as sweet as chocolate.

His green skin turns greyish from sheer panic. Seeing me announced by his master is his equivalent for trouble. “I am sorry, Miss. He will not have any visitors today.”

His concerns are not mine. “He is not even in yet.” I give my best to sound light and playful. “How can you know what his exact wishes are? Especially when they concern me?”

In the background the usual suspects loom: two Red Guards, watching the formal reception area as much as the express turbo-lift runs adjacent to the room. It is not their meter-long Force pikes that make me feel uncomfortable, but those face-concealing helmets with darkened visors. I hate this Sith tradition to hide one's face behind a mask. It is worse than the titles with which they try to erase their former self.

“I take this!” says one of the elite body guards and walks towards me, a red giant.

“Do not ask me for today's password, Ved Kennede!” I hope my knees do not buckle. That they remain still to serve me properly.

“The master told us to let you in at any time,” comes the dispassionate answer. “No questions asked. If you would care to follow me now...”

Vede Kennede might be as old fashioned and creepy as Count Dooku aka Darth Tyranus, but he is as twice as loyal. To serve my uncle completes him as a person. It is his only goal in this life.

“Any news from our kidnap victim?” I ask as innocent as possible.

“Do I detect a certain amount of amusement in your choice of words, milady?”

“I would not dare,” I prompt, keeping a straight face.

“The master usually has all his affairs in good order. Each time you turn up at his door step, which fortunately does not happen too often, chaos breaks loose.”

“Do you incline that I should reconsider my carrier in teaching?”

“I would say that your students would benefit immensely from such a choice,” he says pointedly.

“I am not the one who snatched him away,” I sulk. “Give out to Tyrannus and Grievous if they survive playing sabbac with him.”

“You make it sound as if he wanted this havoc outside.”

The lift door opens. In strange unison we step in together.

“As his personal number one guardsman you should know by now that he always gets what he wants.” I cannot help getting cocky. There is this wild streak inside me that always throws every logic and healthy survival instinct off board. “Political influence, titles, war scenarios, drama. All those really lead up to the ultimate goal: unlimited power.”

The lift drives upwards.

Vede Kennede tilts his head very slightly. “I would be satisfied if the master would give you the beating of your life. You urgently need to be reminded where your place is. Correction will become you well.”

“Oh, I will tell him that you said that.” I keep my back ramrod straight, glaring up.

“Did I ever tell you that you have a very lovely neck?” Playfully, he moves his right index finger over my throat. The black leather of his glove is cool against my skin. “It holds up your head in such a special way. I would hate to de captivate you.”

I find a grain of arrogance in me to be used as a fending weapon. “Do not make promises that you can keep. Even my kindergarten kids know this.”

“But you are not in your kindergarten.” The mic in his helmet is not able to filter out his seeding anger.

I decide to use another means of defence. “But I am in my uncle's place. A guest of honour not to be harmed. You said so itself.”

“His niece,” he hisses as it seems to dawn to him how untouchable I really am. A silly concubine is one thing, but a blood relative a totally different matter. He cannot dispose of me so easily.

“Oh, you did not know?” My acted concern makes his hands shake, especially the left one who clings on to the pike. “And I always thought that you were is number one. So we are both wrong. How embarrassing!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> The disease ostia-phromitia was invented by Briannakin for her SW fanfiction “So Much More Than Fairytales: The Courtship of Prince Bail” by Briannakin on The Force Net  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Enzyklopedia 
> 
> Inspirational song for this chapter:  
> the score “Alderaan, The Throne” composed by Lennie Moore for the computer game “Star Wars, The Old Republic”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *SPOILER ALERT*
> 
> Nagina visits her uncle in his apartment. Not only does Mara's fate come up. They also discuss his choices concerning the dark side of the Force. His news about the destruction of her working place through space debris hits her badly and she faints on the spot. Not much later she regains consciousness in his bed, where he nurses her and insists on her staying over for the night. She hastily flees the next morning, disliking his harsh, unhealthy treatment of Sly Moore. On her way out Vede Kennede leads her to her waiting air taxi with Cad Bane as a driver. She chats the notorious bounty hunter up to drive her to the remains of the kindergarten to get closure.

**Chapter 9:**

My uncle's office chair is surprisingly comfy. I am snuggled into it when he arrives, four of his Red Coats behind him.

“Nagina!” he calls out, they get their energy pikes ready.

“Sheev,” I answer right back. “Imagine, Child Protection Service wants to call you back about Mara.”

“Leave us!” he orders his guards harshly. They draw back and out of his office as fast as they can.

The silence between us falls like an anvil, heavy and unpleasant. But I suffer it with dignity.

I can see that my uncle wears a dark grey robe. The patterns of the expensive cloth remind me of the scales of a reptile.

“Call your foster-parents if you are so worried about the girl,” he offers. “I placed her with Chetan and Gita as soon as I heard of her misfortune.”

I give a despairing laugh. “Why would you do that?”

“Because she reminds me of you.”

If this is just another lie of his, it is a good one.

“There was no need for you to come here,” he explains to me, already rushing to the next subject before I can remark on the rough upbringing Mauly and Sly Moore had. “I was never in real danger. Every step was meticulously planned by me.”

“Even the crash?”

Sheev shrugs. “Skywalker is always resourceful, when he is in full action modus. Collateral damage has to be expected.”

“You really do not care whom you erased today.” I am incredulous. “Or whose houses you destroyed.”

He looks at me intently. I have the feeling he is weighing up what to say, how much of the truth I can stand. “I am afraid the kindergarten building was badly hit by some debris. It burned down to the ground.”

********************************************************************

I must have blacked out. When I regain consciousness I am lying on his expensive Alderaanian relaxa-bed. The room is dimly lit. I can see but the barest outline of a person standing next to me.

“This is what you wanted all along,” I slur. “Me, silent and unmoving.”

“You are wrong about so many things, Nagina.”

“Enlighten me,” I snarl.

“Be careful!” he warns me. “Anger has the bad habit of turning to rage, which itself turns into a desperate need for revenge.”

My voice sounds thick and clotted with phlegm, when I speak up. “An advice like this from a Sith lord?”

He glides down to his knees and catches my left hand, squeezing it. Something wet runs down my skin. Tears. He is actually crying, for I am certain that I have no tears left. “I am a weak man when it comes to you,” he says. “There is nothing I would not dare risking for you.”

“If you would love me, Sheev, then you would not have turned to the dark side,” I argue.

“You had the calling to be a teacher. Could I have stopped you becoming one?” he asks.

“You cannot compare this,” I disagree.

“Can I not?” He makes a noise deep in his throat. Toneless. Somewhat mournful. “If you could just be able to understand the glory of the dark side. The possibilities that it offers to a person willing to grow in power. But you never felt it, did you? The pull of the dark.”

“Of course I did. But I never listened in. I shut it out. Because this is not what I want to be, a mere slave to my own emotions.”

His bitter laugh makes the hairs of my neck stand on end. “But you, serving the light side of the Force, enslave yourself to others on a daily basis. You care for children that are not your own. You run around constantly to make their lives easy, even clean their stinky nappies.”

“You did that for me, too.”

“We are blood of the same blood. Those little bastards are of insignificance next to our relationship.”

“No child is EVER insignificant. They all need love and true dedication as much as a decent education that helps them to define their way in this galaxy.”

He shakes his head. “There it is once more, the impasse between us. I will never fully understand your world and you will never feel comfortable in mine.”

“This is because you enforce your life style on all of us!”

His words come out in a gasp. “That is what being a Sith is about. Being a master of fate.”

“You should leave the fate of others in their own hands,” I complain. Then I pause for a moment. A horrible realisation hits me. “You want the old Sith empire back. With you at the top. But this time the people will not know what is going on. There will be no Jedi to warn them off. The senate will dissolve at some point, either by your hand or it will eliminate itself. Democracies always crash down sooner or later.”

He kisses my hand. “If you only could be the Sith lady I need at my side.” A sigh comes out of his mouth. He breathes it against my skin. “My headstrong, wonderful niece. My greatest joy, my deepest sorrow.”

I try to get up.

“No please, remain where you are! You hit the floor very badly, when I told you that your current working place is no more.”

“You could have caught me easily,” I suggest, only noticing now that there is a bacta bandage around my head.

“Even in falling unconscious you are stubborn.” He chuckles, before adding tenderly. “You gave me such a fright.”

“I was not aware that you can still feel fear,” I challenge him.

“When I held you in my arms for the first time ever, you taught me what the essence of fear is.” A shy finger moves over my left cheek in slow motion. “I had to give you back to your mother at one point. You were never fully mine. I had no power over you. That was scary, still is to a certain extend. You are a person of your own right and certainly of your own mind.”

“What if I pledge myself to you fully?” I say, desperately. “If I would do all your bidding from now on?”

“I would not like that a bit, because that would not be you.” His finger entangles in an errant strand of my hair. “The only solution I see for us is: go to Lothal and stay true to yourself! My Empire will not catch up with you on such an uneventful backwater world that easily.”

“You already set the new education reform in motion.”

“Not to anger you, believe me. It was a bare necessity.” He releases my hair again. “I am busy forging an Empire that has to last a thousand years.”

“Look at intergalactic history!” I exclaim. “All Empires turn to dust sooner rather than later.”

“This is what they have in common with democracies, because people want to be ruled and taken care of. Even you enjoy being taken care of, being pampered now and then.”

Our discussion starts to give me a severe headache in addition to the inner pain that I am already in. “I just want you to take decent care of me, not to set the galaxy on fire.”

“Evolution cannot be stopped, Nagina. And I evolve with each day. Like a krayt dragon in its egg. The shell can break at any time.”

Even though he is right next to me, I feel lonely and empty inside. “Next thing is that you will tell me that you are treading on a golden path.”

My hint to one of his favourite novels is recognized immediately. “But I do. It will simplify everybody else's life. Including yours, eventually.”

********************************************************************

We go on talking for the rest of the night, sitting on his bed. Our arguments move around like one another like two different planets on their ecliptic routes through space. Now and then there is a rendezvous point, but most of the time we are many light years away from one another. Barren, lifeless rocks.

“I am proud of you trying to stop me, Nagina!” Sheev gathers me into his arms. Then he kisses my hair, careful not to come anywhere near the sore spot on my brow. “The expertise in betrayal that you showed today is inspiring.”

My heart hammers against my chest. “Will you hurt the people I talked to?”

“Mace Windu is on my personal death list already.” His eyes glow yellow in the semi-dark of his bed chamber. “As for Organa, in whose company you were spotted today, I guess that I will keep him around a little bit longer. Just because you like him and his pathetic wife.”

He does not know about Mister Jettster and my letter to General Kenobi then. Or that Bail will try to contact Master Yoda on my behalf.

“May I go back to my own flat now?” I want to know.

“No, you stay here tonight. In my care.” His whisper is louder than any scream. “You need rest.”

“Be truthful, uncle! You need company,” I scold him softly.

He engulfs me in a hug that feels like coming home after a long absence.  
“You are a true child of mine, not that pathetic slave boy,” he mumbles into my hair. “He has no finesse, no imagination. The only thing he can do is to fight and to moan. You are much more worthy.”

I feel my throat tighten more and more. He deliberately mentions this son of his once more. “What slave boy?”

His chuckle is dirty. “A nobody really. You should not bother about that idiotic cousin of yours ever. I have been throwing hints in his way the past ten years and he never noticed any of them. Perhaps tomorrow at the opera house he will finally understand what he is dealing with.”

Even though I do not know that relative of mine or have any idea who he might be, I feel like defending his honour. “You introduced me to the legends and beliefs of the Sith when I was five years old.”

“You had to understand what I did on-board that ship. To the fat stock that called itself my family.” There is no regret for his dark, brutal deeds. “Besides, you were always a quick learner. That boy is awfully slow. Intellectually, he is no real challenge for you.”

His praise leaves a stale taste in my mouth nevertheless. “Why do you hate your own son so much? Is it only because of me?”

He looks distraught. “Children never turn out the way that you expect them to be. Unless they are clones like Boba Fett and his million of brothers. So many hopes, all crushed by reality. But you are my ward, my heart's desire. I adore the ground you thread on. That morning I visited you at work, I actually enjoyed myself.”

“In what way?”

“I enjoyed watching you doing all those thousand wonderful little things that you do. You glow and sparkle when you are with children. This is worthwhile to see.”

“But it does not make you whole,” I sniff, somewhat crushed against his chest.

“Nothing can,“he assures me. “But at least you made me understand what love is and how it works. For this experience I am grateful. The love that I feel for you is the only untainted thing in my entire life.”

My tears fall like rain. I cry entire rivers, but he does not criticise me for that. He holds me gently, strokes through my hair. His even breath tickles in my neck. He does not speak, but there is no need. All is said.

At dawn he will continue to erect an empire of dirt on the scattered bones of the Jedi order. By tomorrow he will crush a Republic that has lasted a thousand years. My love makes no difference to him.

********************************************************************

When I open my eyes, bright light is filling the pompous bed chamber. My head is still fuzzy from crying all through the night.

Sly Moore stands at the edge of the bed. Her arms are crossed in front of her chest. “You both sleep together? With your clothes on? How sick is that?” she pouts petulantly.

With the elegance of a Nexus my uncle is out of bed, his eyes gleaming. He wants to punish her right here and right now.

“You always have been a silly wench,” he coos into her pale face.

His right hand clenches around her left upper arm in a grip so visibly tight that I wonder fleetingly if it is going to bruise.

The tall Umbaran starts shaking like the leaves of a Perlote tree in the wind. “I was out of place, my master!” she speaks up.

“My niece and I are not intimate with one another. It is disgusting of you to think that.”

I watch her gulp. She runs a tongue along her bottom lip to moisten it before trying to speak. She starts a sentence, trails off. Her eyes are flickering down to break from his burning gaze.

There is something primal, almost feral about their dynamic. I recognize it as the withered substitute for love that the dark side seems to offer. I am repulsed.

“Master and servant,” I state face crimson. “This is what makes you complete, Sheev? Repeating your childhood trauma over and over again? But this time you are the master?”

My uncle avoids my clear gaze, but Sly Moore turns her face to me. Battling emotions flit across her haughty features. Embarrassment. Desperation. Anger. Resignation.

“I am out of here,” I state and glide from the mattress.

“No, you are not!”

His rich, mellow timbre does not do the trick for me. Not this time.

“I do not feel like having breakfast after this display of...” My voice trails off.

“You will not deny me a last meal together with you!”

I sense his vulnerability underneath all the layers of pride and arrogance. “Say please!” I demand in full kindergarten teacher style.

“Nagina! Please, please stop walking out on me! This is now the second time!” he complains. “I think you owe me some civility here.”

I let out a long sigh. “And you owe me a sense of normality, Sheev. The past hours have been a complete nightmare. No cup of tea can put things right. Or you holding me like a father an upset child.” I glare at Sly Moore. “And you know what is the worst part? Once I am out of here, you will punish her dearly for being out of place. And she will cherish it. The humiliation. Your brutality.”

My uncle regards me with hooded eyes. “Not everybody can have your cheerful, cuddly life style, Nagina. Look at your girl-friend Asajj! Or how your little mate Boba manages after his father's death. Oh, by the way, Dooku killed Asajj with Force lightening when she came for the rescue of Quinlan Vos.”

I hang my head, beaten for now.

“Stop wasting your energy in fights you cannot win!” he suggests to me, while he gives Sly Moore a violent push forward. “You can be such an appallingly bad speaker!”

“But at least I have a point,” I whisper, heartbroken about my friend´s death. “And by leaving right now, I will make it count.”

********************************************************************

I leave the apartment without looking back. Sheev has the decency not to have me stopped by his Red Guards. But one of them possesses the nerve to address me.

“If you were my niece, I would make sure that you could not sit for weeks,” announces Vede Kennede.

I give him a tired side glance, not willing to answer anything back to his callous remark.

“There is an air taxi waiting for you,” he leers.

“I will walk home!”

“Nonsense!” tuts Vede Kennede. “He organized one of his best drivers for you.”

“Very well then,” I grumble.

If that driver creates a decent distance between me and the Red Guard, I will accept him.

I let Vede Kennede lead me through to the private flight platform outside.

The air taxi in front of me is a closed one, but once the driver lowers his side window a bit, I understand why that is.

“Mister Bane!” I make a curtsy.

A smile splits over his blue alien face. He touches his cowboy head in greeting.

This Duros is a criminal of the worst kind, but at present I trust him more than my own uncle. “Boba wanted me to accept the job. He paid rather generously for it. I get double paid for the privilege to drive you around. Easiest money ever.”

This is a straight answer I can live with.

Without a fuss or a word of good-bye to Vede Kennede I get in. “I suppose you know my address?”

“Of course, milady. A lot of us know where you live these days.”

It is kyber crystal clear to me that he refers to the other bounty hunters.

“So my life is not a secret for you, is it?”

He gives me a careful, well measured side glance. “Your daily activities are known. But your relationship with the Supreme Chancellor remains a mystery. Most of us cannot figure out what binds you together.”

I shrug. “Love and hate really, the usual thing.”

He nods to himself. “Attachment. Always difficult. At least the blasted Jedi have a point in that particular agenda.”

“Are you single?”

“Of course. That helps to stay sane and focused on my job. I admire you for not running to the hills. Children would not work for me.”

After that brief exchange a comfortable silence settles over us.

He starts the engines.

Our air taxi flies through the posh senate area.

All the traffic is back to normal as far as I can tell. If it would not be for the monstrous form of the crashed star ship I would even go so far that none of the drama around my uncle actually had happened today.

“Can you do a detour?” I pipe up, my eyes averted on my fingers that are cramped in my lap.

“Today I got paid the ransom money for a queen.” His blue lips form a coy smile. “By two men who could not be more apart in life time, status and occupation. For this alone I would fly you to Tatooine and back.”

Cad Bane can be impertinent and cruel, but around me he seems to be in a good mood. I have nothing to fear. Being a valuable part of two business deals that he made in one go, I have all the protection in the universe.

“Can you get me to my working place?” I inquire.

“Sure,” he answers with the ease of a person who does not know about the drama that has struck my life. He is not aware of the destruction site we are heading to. But I need to see the ruins of the kindergarten myself. This will bring me the closure that I need.

********************************************************************

The city is back to her normal self, loud and chaotic. But her metal skin has ruptures here and there. Wounds, my uncle has inflicted on buildings and lives. He is not the most empathic person that I know of. Even Cad Bane, notorious bounty hunter and criminal, manages better.

“You should stay inside,” he suggests to me, a slight worry tingling his voice. Damaged goods are to be avoided. He has his principles.

“I need to go to the portal,” I whisper, but loud enough that he can hear me.

“Milady,” he warns.

“Please!”

The Duros looks at me for a while through his red eyeballs. “Go ahead!” he says. “But if you have a nervous breakdown, I cannot get out of the vehicle to support you. You must return by yourself!”

There is of course a high price on his head. He might find it exciting, charming even, but he is not a fool to try his luck with Coruscant authorities. Not after the recent kidnapping of some senators to whom Bail belonged.

Shaking, I leave the air taxi. Anger, disappointment and shock are a dangerous mixture in my overheated brain, that tries to sort out the impression it gets.

All the education projects, the art work of the children, their toys – gone.

Earlier on my uncle had sounded like this had been a mere clash of coincident, but with him one can never be sure. He has enough self-control not to hurt me or to seek my demise, but he wants to be sure that I leave for Lothal.

Grim faced, I turn away from the ruins of the kindergarten building and its blackened garden.

Cad Bane knows better than to address me right now, when I take my seat next to him again. Now and again he checks my features for tell-tale tears, but none will come.

An abuse victim has to make difficult daily choices. Right now I am ticking off a lot of boxes in my mind. I am not going for revenge. That would not be me! But I will make sure that my uncle understands that there are frontiers which he should not cross. Especially when those frontiers guard my privacy and my sanity. I will double my efforts to fight back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources: Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Enzyklopedia
> 
> Inspirational song for this chapter: the score “Central City” the “Tin Man” series soundtrack, composed by Simon Boswell


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *SPOILER ALERT*
> 
> Nagina returns home, where the moving team – her Twi'lek neighbour Aola, the boy Rorak and his uncle – are already wrapping things up nicely. There is talk about a good-bye party the parent committee wants to give her later in the evening. 
> 
> She takes time to write a letter of good-bye to her uncle. Spotting the Kowakian monkey-lizard Pilf Mukmuk and his notorious owner – Hondo Ohnaka – outside the apartment building, she walks outside to greet them. The space pirate turns down her well-meant invitation and also suggests not to upset the Supreme Chancellor with her letter, mistaking him for Nagina' s lover. She sadly agrees to his kind advice and has Aola dress her for the party. 
> 
> Mistress Cho might be the official hostess, but it turns out that Prince Xizor insisted to pay for the entire evening. A couple of weeks ago Nagina has helped out his niece Savan during a museum visit. The influential crime lord is forever grateful, offering nothing but his friendship. Nagina gets invited to a refreshing sauna visit and later on to the opera. Raised to be polite she cannot turn down the Falleen.

**Chapter 10:**

Rorak and his uncle are inside my flat when I walk through the entrance door. My Twi'lek neighbour Aola Auyapgajo is with them. The moment she sets her large green eyes on me, she starts talking.

“This is about Prince Xizor, right? You are scared about him.” She tries not to sound too reproachful, but she does not manage. “Is there no other way?”

I shake my head, while her pittin hops around me and yelps. “Lothal is far enough from all the madness that goes on at present. After the kidnapping of the Supreme Chancellor I realized that I cannot take it any more.”

With each word that I tell her, I am truthful and authentic. To a certain extent. There is no need to share my full story with her or my moving team.

“I'll get you out of here as soon as possible, Mistress Samye.” Rorak's uncle gives me a huge grin.

“Thanks, I really, really appreciate it.”

Aola's lime green skin is pinkish. “Hold on! The parent committee and your colleagues should have a say in this as well, shouldn't they?”

“This planet just recovers from a Separatist attack at its door step,” I give to consider. “Don't you think everybody has better things to do?”

Her eyes are but small slits now. “Stop thinking that lowly of yourself, Nagina. You matter to more people than you think. I am sad for the Supreme Chancellor. He had a hell of a day today. But I am sure he has a team of advisers, spin doctors and political friends around him, who take good care of him.”

The only thing closest to a friend that my uncle has is Sate Pestage, one of his advisers. The history they share goes a long way back to Naboo days. But he cannot trust anyone apart from me. If he would have lived his life differently, then he could afford the luxury of trust.

********************************************************************

I do not own much. The majority of my belongings are electronic books, music disks, art materials and clothing. Everything is easily stuffed into twelve wooden crates made from Wroshyr trees.

Rorak's uncle explains his somewhat eccentric choice to me. “When it comes to packing materials, people usually think of metal crates and bubble wrap. Even of sticky tape. But for your most delicate items a wooden crate can be an extra insurance. I want all your belongings to arrive on Lothal safely.” He beams like a happy, little boy. “My crates are one-hundred percent fit to the size of a fragile or high value item. And they are custom built by a Wookie carpenter.”

I believe the man to be a highly-skilled mover so I let him continue his work, while my neighbour Aola and I pack in all the kitchenware, or the batterie de cuisine as my uncle would call it.

Since Barin is dead, I seldom cook for myself. He was a great hobby chéf like my uncle.

With tears gathering in my eyes, I look at the crate that contains the few precious belongings of him. Jealously guarded things, that I decided to keep after his funeral service.

There had been a mock coffin which had been cremated in Naboo style. No corpse had been inside. The Separatists had been thorough with their bomb attack. And my uncle had been inconsolable. He almost had killed Count Dooku for his failure. But war takes casualties, even the family members of a cunning sith lord. Miscalculations happen. Nobody is infallible.

Thoughtfully, I walk over to my plants, which are all lined up in a quiet corner of my apartment. I want Aola to inherit their lot. All of them but one. It will go to my uncle.

While the droid assistants carry the crates downstairs and Aola moves some of her new companions next door, I sit down to write a note to go with the pot of Rominaria flowers. I have managed to keep them alive all those years with underdeveloped plant surge, a very peculiar Force power of mine.

My medium of choice is an old piece of parchment. I once stole it from his special place. The sith shrine that he has erected right under the Jedi Temple. Grimly, my eyes fly over the ancient sith hieroglyphs. It is an invocation to summon the Dead from their graves. The name of that particular atrocity is 'Bone Dance'. I wonder if my uncle even has missed it since last summer.

Nibbling on the end of my pencil, I decide to skip the salutation. His own name becomes more and more meaningless to him. And to write down his sith title would be too bold.

Koriban is such a cold, gruesome place. You can only find death and destruction there.

I still wish you would reconsider your choice. The door is still open. All you have to do is to walk through it.

To become the Sith'ari means never-ending night and loneliness. You told me once, that those who do not remember the past shall relive it. And it seems to me that you do not wish to remember. Not even the nice things we shared together. My heart is torn in pieces like our galaxy.  
Good-bye! Nagina

Instead of an envelope I choose one of my hair ribbons and wrap it around the parchment.

I gaze out of one of my living-room windows, just to spot a Kowakian monkey-lizard sitting lazily on top the transport ship. It has green fur on top of its bird-like head and reddish skin. The yellow lizard eyes gleam with mischief.

“Pilf,” I whisper to myself. “Pilf Mukmuk.”

With the flower pot in my left hand I follow one of the service droids downstairs.

********************************************************************

Of course the pet's owner is nearby. It is Hondo Ohnaka, a tough, pragmatic Weequay. He does not try to hide his presence. As usual he is dressed in his colourful pirate robes, which make him seem more like a children's book character than a real person. Another Kowakian monkey-lizard sits on his left shoulder. It is Pikk, who is even more colourful than his brother Pilf.

“Mistress Samye,” Hondo Ohnaka beams and starts to walk up to me, moving like a model of the Coruscant fashion week. Behind his goggles his grey eyes are large and luminous, filled with real joy.

“Mister Ohnaka,” I say and curtsy automatically.

Laughing, the pirate takes my hand, which I already stretched out to him in greeting. He leads my fingers up to his mouth. An old fashioned kiss is blown against my finger tips. “To you, my sweet lady, just Hondo.”

“There is Corellian Air Cake and some fermented fungus ale upstairs,” I offer, while he still holds on to my hand. “It cannot make up for your loss of your base on Florrum, of course.”

“Ah, you heard!” he exclaims and lets go of my hand, just to throw his arms in the air dramatically. “I give you a bit of kind advice, Mistress Samye. Stay away from Force users! They only mess up with your life.”

I nod solemnly for I know a lot about Force users. “You seem like you need some Chimbak to calm your nerves.”

“Unfortunately, I have to decline your kind offer to a glass of Alderaanian wine.” He gives me a lazy smile, his eyes glowing with charm. “A respectable woman like you should not be seen with a rogue pirate like me.”

I reach out for his Kowakian monkey-lizard and stroke the animal endearingly. It makes cooing sounds, closing its eyes in pleasure.

“Please return to your flat now!” Hondo begs me, his lips twitching as he watches his pet falling more and more to my charme. He cannot know that I am using another Force power of mine. “I do not want to ruin your good-bye party!”

I go for the bold approach. “If you won't follow me upstairs, could you at least do me a favour?”

Hondo eyes the Rominaria flowers carefully. “You want me to give those back to the Supreme Chancellor?” He shakes his head. “It is never wise to upset a former lover.”

I remain standing in front of him. “Like you never dared to upset Aura when you both were an item?”

Something flickers in his eyes. “If it means so much to you, I send one of my best handy men.” His voice is quiet, while he reaches out for one of my cheeks. “There is no need to pay me. Just ask yourself, if you really want to give those flowers back. Sometimes silence is golden.”

“Perhaps you are right,” I whisper brokenly.

His pet hops by and raises up his arms. Perplexed, I give the flower pot into its tiny claws.

“In this I am right.” The tall Weequay gathers me in his arms. “Forget about the flowers, the message! Leave this planet like a queen who goes into her exile. You know what I always say: speak softly, and drive a big tank.”

Tears spill down my cheeks. My breath is hiccuping over his skin.

“This effort is no longer profitable!” he tries to sooth me, but I cannot stop crying.

The Kowakian monkey-lizard cackles, hopping around us like a lunatic. My flowers remain strangely safe despite his wild dance.

When Hondo and I step away from each other, his solace lingers on inside me, making me smiley again. A weak smile, but a smile nonetheless. “Thank you!” I squeeze out.

“No, I am grateful for every pedagogical advice you ever gave me.” He winks at me. “Young Fett sure is a handful. Now that Aura and I have split up, he is even more troublesome.”

“Asajj works on it,” I assure him, but that information does not make him overly happy. She is not known to be the motherly type of woman.

********************************************************************

Not much later, Aola has a surprise for me. “I am to bring you to Level 3204 now that everything is nicely wrapped up.”

I blink at her, not comprehending.

She laughs at me. “How do you want to give a party in a flat that has no chairs and tables left? All your cutlery and dishes are packed in as well.”

Curious, I keep looking at the Twi'lek woman. “So where are we going exactly?”

Rorak, who had been helping with the logistics until now, saunters closer. “To Glarus Valley, one of the most popular community centres. A Mistress Choh...”

“Beaplli's mom? Really?” I clap my hands like an excited child.

“First I get you dressed nicely for the occasion.” Aola gives me a full body scan. “And we need to do something with your hair.”

“Please do not give me a traditional Naboo hair style!” I beg. “I hate them since my early childhood.”

“Ha!” she laughs triumphantly. “I knew it. You are indeed from Naboo and try your best to keep it undercover. Your secret is safe with me, Nagina.”

Her wink relaxes me slightly. But I fear that my outfit or my hair style will not be the usual me after the Twi'lek woman is finished with me.

********************************************************************

One hour later we arrive at the 'Glarus Valley' community centre down in Level 3204. In the style of Lufta Shif, the former Educational Regent of Naboo, I am wearing gentle and flowing teaching robes. Aola had not been able to influence my choice. I had denied all of her suggestions with calm dignity.

My hair is held up by a metal hair slide, displaying a Zoorif feather motif. I got it from my uncle ages ago during a private Festival of Light celebration.

As we come closer, I can see that a tall Muun figure stands outside.

Mistress Choh acts as my private welcome committee. She holds on to a big flower bouquet and waves at us.

Aola laughs. Her skin is more pinkish than usual. As she runs inside the building, her lekku dangling behind her, she reminds me of a child bound to more good-natured mischief.

Blushing, I come to stand before the tall Muun woman. “Nagina, you are a surprise from every angle,” she praises me. “You are as beautiful as that senator from Naboo tonight.”

Padmé Naberrie, better known as Senator Amidala, does not have thirty kilogram overweight. Even with her secret pregnancy she looks as radiant as ever. I feel like a Jawa sand crawler no matter what I wear.

Before I can thank Mistress Choh for her generosity, she takes one of my hands in a confidential manner. “Before you say anything, my dear, an admirer of yours has contacted me two days ago. These are his flowers. He insisted to pay for all expenses tonight. The rent for the location, the food service and drinks - all inclusive.”

I pale for I have a sudden idea about the identity of my benefactor. “It is Prince Xizor, isn't it?” I inquire.

“Your insight serves you well as usual.” Happiness gleams in the tall Muun's otherwise pale face. “His Majesty will pick you up later on tonight. After you saved one of his favourite nieces three weeks ago, he feels very obliged to you.”

My thoughts twirl around like sand in a nostalgic hourglass. The realisation kicks in much more slowly.

“Savan? The three year old Falleen girl from the Galactic Museum?” I ponder.

“A royal princess of means on her home world.” The normally cool Mistress Choh has trouble to keep her excitement out of her voice. “The two kindergarten teachers who lost sight of her have been fired right after that incident.”

I feel for the poor women, because it can happen all too easily that a child gets lost during a field trip. The Galactic Museum is a very chaotic place to be. Its seize is frightening. “They were pedagogues of the senate kindergarten, right?” I enquire, my voice somewhat pressed.

The Muun nods in confirmation.

Now the mysterious job offer that my boss, Jessica Reidia, received a couple of days ago starts to make sense. Prince Xizor had hoped that I would go for it and be there for his favourite niece forever more.

And I, thinking this would be all about my uncle, have given he Falleen criminal dangerous information that he could use for blackmail. “I feel like an absolute nerfherder!” I mumble.

“Strange that you would say that!” Mistress Choh laughs. “His Majesty already feared that you would feel that way.”

A nostalgic paper envelope is given to me. I open it with nervous hands. The card reads:

“To the wonderful Mistress Samye, who gave me a splendid time while I was allowed to observe her and her life. Please be my guest tonight! You are brave, extremely funny and overall charming! I would be very honoured to invite you to the opera later on. Perhaps you might even grant me to have a nightcap with you. Yours sincerely X”

My senses go on read alert while I reach the post scriptum:

“PS: You saved my beloved Savan. For this I owe you civility and generosity. This is why I will not treat you like the women who usually cross my way. Family business is sacred to me. This makes you untouchable to me, I am afraid.”

My eyes widen as I read the last sentence that the crime lord added:

“P.P.S: Otherwise I would commit unspeakable acts of passion with you tonight. Which is a shame, really!!!”

My eyes flicker, but I recover quickly.

“Thanks for organizing all this for him tonight.”

Mistress Choh shakes her head. “I am doing this for you, the favourite teacher of my son. But I might have a business partner in His Majesty in future.”

Normally, I am a good judge of character, but Prince Xizor had failed my evaluation completely. I did him and his motives utterly wrong.

Gently, the Muun places the flowers in my arms. “Let us go inside now! There are more people to meet and presents to unwrap.”

********************************************************************  
It is an afternoon worthwhile to remember. While Coruscant recovers from her recent wounds, I am in a safe bubble of love and respect.

I suspected just half of my current group parents to show up with their offspring. But Mistress Cho has invited everybody that I had dealt with since my arrival in the kindergarten. I am faced with nearly a hundred people. Children dance around me, eager to catch my attention.

There are speeches of thanks and singing from excited young ones.

The food is gorgeous and a mix of the various races and ethnicities I worked with throughout the years.

When the evening falls, the younger children are brought home by their parents under protest.

Prince Xizor does not appear before the last guest kisses me good-bye under tears. I am crying, too, so the Falleen criminal hands me a violet handkerchief.

“Thanks,” I sniff into it and suppress the instinct to give it back to him.

“Normally I turn around when a woman cries. With Savan it is different though. And for some unexplainable reason I want to comfort you, too,” the elegant Falleen ponders, studying me like a newly discovered species from the Unknown Regions. “But I know you would not let me touch you. I am still a stranger to you, a possible thread even.”

I stand as still as a statue, knowing he is not finished yet.

“You hugged quite a lot of males today, Mistress Samye. Most of them are the scum that makes my wealth possible. Criminals that are wanted dead or alive.” His lavender eyes gaze at me in admiration. “You trusted them with your life anyway. Like an animal tamer knowing all the beasts in the pit by name. My security men had trouble breathing more than once, eager to get you to safety. How can your uncle sleep well at night?”

“Alderaanian relaxa-bed,” I prompt.

Prince Xizor's eyes widen and then he roars with laughter. It has the volume of a kyat dragon screeching.

Boldly, Aola shows up next to me and throws in, “Is this man bothering you, sweetie?”

“I hope not, Mistress Auyapgajo.” His voice is clipped, while he bows curtly to my Twi'lek friend. “It would be unforgivable to insult the woman who did so much to achieve my private state of happiness.”

Perplexed, she blinks at him. Her hazel eyes show her deep confusion.

“If you would not mind, Mistress Samye, I would like to leave with you now. We are bound to arrive at the Opera House in two hours sharp.” His gaze is back at me, all coldness gone. It is replaced with a concern that I had not thought him to be capable of. “If you would like to refresh yourself at one of my day spas...”

Of course, he owns hotels and spas. I should have known. He mixes illegal investigations with innocent ones. Perhaps he even pays his taxes to some extend.

The silence is electrifying. Aola holds her breath and the Underworld Lord gives his best of looking unassuming.

“Why not,” I answer. He wants to behave himself for his niece and I badly need to network if I want to survive the rise of the Sith Empire that my uncle has in mind.

********************************************************************

There are no other spa guests. Not any more. One call with one of his assistances and the entire place had been shut down. Now it is just us in this tiled steam bath.

Nervously, I check if my sauna towel is still neatly in order.

“Relax!” Prince Xizor crocks his head. “I gave a promise, remember?”

This makes me giggle girlishly despite my forty years of age. I hate myself for appearing awkward and stupid in front of him all the time. He must find this tiresome by now.

“My dear Mistress Samye,” he starts.

“Nagina,” I interrupt him and, driven by another silly instinct, extend my hand in greeting.

His scaled reptile fingers wrap around my right hand. “You are a novelty to my life, my dear Nagina. No female being has made me laugh so much within forty-eight standard hours. Not even Savan. For that alone I owe you.”

“I thought Falleen respected discipline and control, particularly self-control.”

“They do. Especially when they are in company of strangers. But you are no stranger to me any more. You saved my niece, who also has the power to make me laugh. Therefore I want to be as nice to you as I am to her.” There is nothing but truth in his lavender eyes. “I will be as caste with you as a B'omarr monk.”

Those monks have no body to speak of. They had their brains surgically removed and placed in jars containing nutrient fluid.

I scan Prince Xizor in his towel. No treacherous tints of red show in his skin. He has himself and his phenomenons under control.

“Can you... please... relax around me?” He sighs and I detect real exasperation in him. “I just want to be a good acquaintance if you allow me to be thus. Since you gave me an unexpected update on your true identity, I did a lot of thinking.”

Our hands apart from each other again.

“You ask yourself if I can promote you,” I suggest.

“I would not dare asking that of you.” He shakes his head. “But if you could let your uncle know that I am willing to protect you from now on, all would be well.”

“Just because I took care of your crying niece in the middle of a museum exhibition?”

“You showed pity and compassion with a distracted child, vulnerable in many ways.” His eyes are alight with passion. “There could have been kidnappers around. Or wandering perverts. You never know with a girl so young.”

The way he worries about Savan shows me that he is really but a concerned relative. He dotes on her very much.

Prince Xizor looks at his perfectly manicured nails that are as long as my fingers. “Does the fear ever stop?” he whispers, his usual cold and calculation demeanour light years away from him.

I skid over to him, boldly taking both of his hands into mine. “It will get worse over the years. Especially when Savan will reach her teens. It will drive you mad.”

He throws his head back and growls pathetically. I cannot speak the language of the Falleen, but I am sure he just used a swear word. Then he jerks back into position, scanning my anxious face. “This is why I want our acquaintance to deepen, Nagina. All my other nieces and nephews are rotten to the core. I want Savan to stay my diamond forever.”

I bite my lip. “Child education is no guarantee that they turn out the way we want them to be. Just stay true and honest with her! And keep her away from your... business related operations, whatever they might be!”

He nods grimly. “This is what I wanted all along.” Than his gaze softens again and he looks somewhat smug, “I am glad we already share an opinion here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources: Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Enzyklopedia 
> 
> Inspirational song for this chapter: the score “Jack Sparrow” composed by Hans Zimmer for the movie “Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *SPOILER ALERT*
> 
> Nagina gets styled by one of Coruscant's best stylists for her night out. For example with rainbow gems from the Hapes Cluster.
> 
> In the opera building Xizor reveals that he purchased her exclusive clothing from a charity event from Padmé Amidala. She is flattered and found of the black costume, that consists of a mermaid skirt, a leather corset, and feather shawl.
> 
> During the break after Act I of the “Squid Lake” performance they visit the box of the Supreme Chancellor. Unfortunately, Sheev is not in. But General Skywalker certainly is. The young Jedi knight is enraged to see the familiar clothing of his secret wife on a fat, ugly woman, whom he mistakes to be the mistress of a Falleen criminal. 
> 
> Sheev, who was at a short visit at the gents, is not pleased about Nagina getting insulted by Anakin and forces him to offer his excuses. He is unaware that this meeting will have dire consequences for his niece in a distant future.

** Chapter 11: **

Xizor assists me to dress up for the occasion and has one of Coruscant's best stylists work on me. I end up wearing a black costume, that consists of a mermaid skirt, a leather corset, and feather shawl. My hair is done with two braids running across my head, and the remainder of my hair is put in a simple pony tail.

As I gaze into the mirror I cannot help to think that I look like a dark version of myself. A sith lady keen to conquer. “I wonder if my uncle will recognize me at all,” I mumble, touching the mirror with my trembling finger tips.

“Of course he will. You are the delight of his heart.”

A quote from one of my favourite books comes to mind, “It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”

Xizor comes to stand next to me, adjusting his snake bands that he wears around both of his upper arms. “You are a dangerous woman, because you see right through all of us. The naughty children in your kindergarten group must be very upset about that skill of yours.”

My evening companion is his usual self-assured and sensual Falleen self again. I must say his violet robes with their gold threats are explicit. It is a bit cheeky of him to wear something that is low-backed. His scales peak out of it and remind me of a kyat dragon. Or even a Duinuogwuin, a star dragon. But those come in various shades of grey.

“What is on tonight?” I ask to distract myself from his exotic beauty.

“It is the première of _'Squid Lake'_ preformed by the Mon Calamari Ballet.”

_“Squid Lake,”_ I shriek and clap my hands.

“You are familiar with it?”

I nod eagerly. “It is considered to be one of the greatest classical ballets of all time.”

The ghost of a smile softens his sensual mouth. “Then it was worthwhile getting tickets at such short notice. Your glee is very pleasant, Nagina.”

“You always get what you want, don't you?” I inquire, hoping that nobody got murdered for those Ballet tickets.

Abruptly, he jerks away. “Self-contemplation is the key to success.”

“Almost spoken like a Jedi knight.”

Xizor pulls back to bathe me in his glance. “I am not overly found of Force users. See, what they have done to the galaxy that we live in! It is a disgrace, really. They should be all wiped out.”

It is in my power to correct his point-of-view, but I remain silent. He does not like the Jedi and I do not want to share my intimate knowledge about the Sith with him. Even though he offered me his friendship, I need to threat carefully. He cannot have all my secrets. Nobody ever can.

“Your uncle wants to restore peace and order,” he says, putting my coat over my shoulders.

“No,” I say. “He wants to build an empire.”

Xizor takes my revelation in reverent silence.

“Do not mistake him to be a good-hearted fool!” I continue. “It is all a façade for the unwary. His ambitions are cold and cruel. Single lives do not count for him.”

“Yours does,” he challenges me.

“I do not share his values.” I hang my head, staring at the expensive rug that I am standing on. “Nor does he share mine.”

Xizor fastens the Sith brooch for me. “This is why you have to go to Lothal,” he figures quietly. “Building an empire costs a lot of strength. He wants you safe and far away from the future centre of power. I can imagine a lot of ugly things will happen soon.”

“Yes,” I sniff. “There will be slaughter and misery.”

“I am looking forward to it.” Something like conscience shows up in his eyes, when he searches my shocked gaze. “The truth is, men like me might rise high when they offer their support to the new order.”

“I suppose so,” I say, my voice not really sounding like my own. It is too clogged with emotions.

“Please, give me the chance to make this a night worth to remember!” Xizor begs. “Do not cry before I even tried making an effort!”

For once in my life I am happy that water-proofed make-up was used on me. Otherwise I would look like Asajj on a bad day. I make a mental note to leave my new address for her. It will be nice to have familiar faces visiting at Lothal.

Xizor presents a tiara to me. “Please do me the favour to wear this tonight. It is a loan, because you would not accept it as a present from me.”

Dazed, I stare at the jewelled, ornamental coronet. “Where...”

“These are rainbow gems from the Hapes Cluster. They are very hard to get by.” He takes great care of adjusting the tiara on my head. “The current Queen Mother guards the frontiers of her domain well.”

I nod mechanically, for I cannot let Xizor know that those gems are alive. They are actually silicon-based lifeforms who will mature in a thousand years time. I can feel their strong Force signature and I pity them for having been torn away from their community. They are so young still.

********************************************************************

It is not that I walk the famous walk-of-shame through the Galaxies Opera House. Xizor has kept his word to me in so far. He just acts as a pleasant host, keen on treating me like a queen. His courteous behaviour does not differ much from Sheev's. I can live with them sharing another similarity.

Survival is about accommodation to the given circumstances. Having grown up with Grandfather Cosinga's foul temper, I had to adjust rather early in life.

We start to climb the long stair case.

Females around me make excited noises when we pass arm in arm. Some even swoon.

“Stop that!” I rebuke Xizor.

“I wish I could,” he answers back under his breath. “It is not as easy as it seems. To look as perfect as I am is really a curse, Nagina.”

He leads me to the bar for a drink. I chose something non-alcoholic, but expensive non-the-less. Alderaanian fountain water. The planet just sold thousand bottles a year to support intergalactic child programs or charity events on Coruscant.

“You look radiant tonight,” Xizor complements me. “We should take holo pictures for your former kindergarten wards.”

I put my half-empty water glass down. “They would not recognize me like this.”

“Do not underestimate the bright minds of the children you taught with such care and dedication!”

Thinking about the smoking ruins of the kindergarten building and everybody I will leave behind soon, tears start gathering in my eyes.

Xizor notices my distress and dives into our conversation with doubled effort. “I have a confession to make about the dress.”

Blinking my tears back, I say, “Tell!”

He smiles indulgently. “I got it during a charity auction very recently. It is adjusted to your seize, especially the bustier.”

“You buy lady clothing second-hand?” I tease him.

“Not a lady.” His smile gets wider. “She was once a queen on your home planet.”

Shock pulses through me. “I wear something that Senator Amidala possessed?”

“She sold some of her private garments for a charity. Lunch parcels for children in badly hit war regions seemed to be a good cause to tribute to.” He winks at me. “I feel doubly rewarded with my purchase.”

********************************************************************

The performance itself is a dream. From the box that Xizor hired for the evening I have a pretty good view on the actual stage, which consists of seven water bubbles. A big bubble is surrounded by six smaller ones. I believe a big repulsor field being responsible for that phenomena. The dancers move around in the safety of their bubbles with grace.

The Mon Calmari are a humanoid, aquatic species. They hail from the water planet of Mon Cala, which they share with the Quarren species. With his blasted Clone Wars Sheev has made sure that once peaceful neighbours have turned into bitter enemies.

Why he has chosen to watch a performance by an alien race that has little meaning to him, I do not know. But I suppose that the music lover in him overcomes all prejudices for tonight.

The synopsis of the ballet, that has four acts, mirrors an old legend from Naboo. A young noble man, due to marry out of duty, falls in love with an enchanted woman. An evil sorcerer has turned her and her hand maidens into swans. There is a dirty intrigue and much heart break.

With my old fashioned opera glasses I seek out my uncle. And soon I find him. He is in his private box, but not alone. General Skywalker is with him.

My hand moves quickly to my mouth to suppress a moan. There is no need to alert Xizor, who enjoys the dance theatre to the fullest.

I do not like the familiarity between and the Jedi Knight. They talk too calm, too serene with one another. It does not seem that there is blackmail going on about Amidala's pregnancy. Something else is amiss between the two of them. Is Sheev possibly recruiting General Skywalker for the sith empire?

“You would not,” I whisper. “Tell me that you would not willingly cause the fall of a good man.”

All of a sudden his blue gaze is fully set on me. He will always find me, no matter where I am. I expect him to open a connection to me in the Force, but he chooses not to. Not with General Skywalker sitting a few inches next to him. Instead he gives one of his guards a secret sign.

“We will get a visitor soon,” I mumble loud enough for Xizor to hear me.

“Shall I have one of my men stop him?” he asks politely.

Not keen on a blood bath, I shake my head. “My uncle will just send a private message. There will be no harm done.”

“Sending messages?” The Falleen criminal raises a black eye brow. “He behaves like a school boy.”

“Sheev is old fashioned in some respect.”

“If you say so.” He turns his face back to the water bubbles and the dancers. “But if this upsets you too much, Nagina, I still can...”

“Please, don't!”

We are both surprised that my hand lands on top of his.

“The colour of your skin looks good on mine.” He closes his lavender eyes for a brief moment. When he speaks again his voice is hoarse with passion. “Please do not offer me sweet fruits that are forbidden for me!”

Blushing, I take my hand back.

A Red Guard approaches. It is not Vede Kennede though. I can tell as much straight away. “Kile Hannad?” I ask softly as I come closer, hoping that nobody else can hear.

“No, milady,” the man chuckles behind his impenetrable mask. “But I am his best friend Kir Kanos. At your service.”

He hands me an old fashioned parchment that I handle with great care like a Thermal detonator. The language is Sanskrit, the holy language of Naboo.

_Pyaar dil se kabhi na ho kam_  
_Tu mere khwaabon mein basa_  
_Paas hai, door hai_  
_Jee chahta hain gale se lagaun_  
_O sajan ji haan sajan ji... kuch socho kuch samjho meri baat ko_  
_Sheev_

Which translates to:

_The love in my heart shall never lessen_  
_You're in my dreams forever_  
_We stand so close yet are so far_  
_I want to hug you tight_  
_Oh my beloved, try and understand what I'm trying to say_  
_Sheev_

I almost choke on my sob. This is a clear good-bye. None of his usual mixed messages.

The Red Guard still towers above me. “He expects no answer.”

“Of course,” I clip out, trying to keep my emotions on check, but they leak out of me like a lake. A swan lake. A squid lake. Like any lake containing too much water.

Kir Kanos leans closer. “Before I humbly take my leave of you, milady, let me assure you that it is not wise to interact with members of the Black Sun. Stay away from this crime organisation in future!”

My lips quiver, but I cannot, will not answer.

“Take care on Lothal, milady. There might be trouble ahead.” The Red Guard gives me a stiff military bow and rushes off again.

Xizor comes to stand right behind me, too nervous to wrap me into his arms. Solace is uncharted territory for him. “If your uncle's letter upsets you that much, I should talk to him,” he tries to reason as he fumbles for another handkerchief.

“You should not,” I breeze.

“He cannot leave you in such emotional turmoil. It is not fair.”

“Fairness is not anywhere on his personal radar.” I smile, trying to put his mind at ease. “There are other priorities in his life now that he rises an empire.”

Xizor does not agree with me at all. “Family should not be sacrificed like this. Please leave the entire matter to me or I will use my ultimate weapon on you!”

“Your pheromones? Really?”

Xizor sighs, but his jaw is clenched. “All to stop you crying entire rivers. I want you happy and content. Like you were on the security recordings of the Galactic Museum.”

Like my uncle Xizor has the tendency to be a bit of a stalker. There is a price for being well-informed about others. I straighten my spine as I learned it from my Yoga teacher. “Tonight is not the right time. He is with Skywalker.”

“That reckless young man seems to be all over the place, literally.” He rolls his lavender eyes. “There is a lot of merchandise of him scattered throughout the city. I do ask myself if a Jedi knight deserves so much attention. He should not know vanity. Or a fan base.”

********************************************************************

During the break we walk over to Sheev's private box. The guards are nervous when they behold us. They recognize my companion first. It takes them a while to recognize me. But when they do, one steps up to me.

“Milady, he is just on a stroll,” I recognize the speaker as Kir Kanos immediately. “And Skywalker is still inside the box. This is not the right time, I am afraid.”

Xizor smiles arrogantly. “Why do the Jedi always get extra credits by everyone? This is favouritism of the worst kind. Since that unfortunate war broke out, they swarm all over our galaxy and want to stand in the spotlight all the time. That Skywalker is the worst. He should be inside his temple meditating. Classical dance theatre is not meant for uneducated Tatooine scum like him.”

“Excuse me?” asks a male voice.

I stare into a pair of blue human eyes, twin suns of annoyance. They vaguely remind me of someone close to home, but I skip that thought. A lot of humans have blue eyes in this galaxy. is not the only one.

“Ah, the famous 'Hero without fear' himself!” muses Xizor. I can almost smell the testosterone that is in the air now. “The angriest Jedi knight that ever walked the galaxy.”

“And you must be one of the smug reptile faces that hide behind the Black Sun Syndicate,” General Skywalker snaps back.

“Oh, you must mistake me with Ziton Moj, a common scoundrel,” Xizor corrects him smoothly. “Please allow me to introduce myself. I'm a man of wealth and taste...”

“You dirty Falleen look all the same to me,” General Skywalker interrupts him, his brow wrinkled in anger. And suddenly his blue glance is fully set on me. “I don't believe it!”

He is not referring to me, but the dress. I try to take a considerate step back, but I fail because Xizor does not allow me to do so. “I am Prince Xizor and this is my charming companion...”

“I am not interested to become acquainted with one of your brainless dolls. A woman that is so cheap that she wears other people's old clothing. Does she also rummage rubbish bins? That would explain why she is as fat as a Hutt.”

As my heart sets out a beat, Xizor's heart rate doubles. “You just insulted a flawless, excellent kindergarten teacher that is a dear guest of mine tonight.”

“This is a kindergarten teacher?” General Skywalker narrows his eyes. “And banthas can fly at midnight. She is your... personal blow-up mattress.”

A vein pulses at Xizor's throat. “If you can use a metal blade instead of that silly torch of yours, we will meet at dawn for a private vendetta.”

Sheev has appeared behind us all. His gaze tells me that he is not amused of the havoc his protégé has caused. And that he is sorry for me. “Ah, Mistress Samye,” he smiles and takes my right hand to kiss it tenderly. “I am happy to see you again so soon.”

“You know this... person?” asks General Skywalker, his voice rising some octaves.

“Of course.” My uncle lifts an incredulous eye brow at him. “She is one of the best pedagogues on this planet.”

The Jedi Knight mumbles something incomprehensible.

“Anakin, we all could not hear you properly.” Sheev is the epiphany of friendliness, but I know his real game. “You must speak more pronounced.”

“Mistress Samye, pleased to meet you.” The Jedi Knight does not go for eye contact nor does he attempt to give me a kiss on the hand. “But if you would excuse me now, I have important business to do.”

“Jedi business?” cajoles Xizor.

“Which is way better than being part of a crime syndicate,” General Skywalker challenges him. “We are knights of the Republic and protect her values.”

“There are rumours that your kind hurts children and chokes decent civilians just for fun.”

“You should not pay too much attention to Force hating morons.”

“I find people overly clever when they see your lot for what they really are: trouble makers and freaks of nature.”

While both men start throwing unkind things into each others faces, I whisper to Sheev in pure Sanskrit, _“Mera jeevan to hai tera saaya.”_ I lick my lips, willing my heart to calm again. _My whole life is under your shadow._

Sheev nods to that. Then he uses his voice to stop Xizor and General Skywalker. “The break is almost over and Mistress Samye wants to see some civilised ballet performance. If you could take your quarrel elsewhere, gentlemen, I would appreciate it very much.”

“Actually, I do not feel well and would like to go home.”

A shiver goes through Xizor. I can feel him getting a grip on his feelings again. He slowly turns to me. “Then let me take you home, Nagina.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> The plot of the ballet “Swan Lake” composed by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky (1840 - 1893)  
> Several lyrical lines from the Bollywood movie “Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham” (2001), direcet by Karan Johar  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Enzyklopedia
> 
> Inspirational song for this chapter: the score “Cloud Atlas end title” composed by Tom Tykwer, Johnny Klimek & Reinhold Heil for the movie “Cloud Atlas”


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12:**

Of course my uncle has notified the local officials in of my arrival. My paperwork has already been done for me. I get all the clearances that I need. He even has opened a bank account for me with a generous, but not too alarming amount of money on it.

Before I can leave the registration office of Jhothal, I am given a small pot of flowers. “Congratulations, Mistress Samye! You are the 144th citizen of Capital City!”

I waver slightly, because I recognize those Rominaria flowers as well as the pot they are in. Barin gave that pot to me on our first wedding anniversary. “Thank you!” I say, close to a whisper.

I bet Plif Mukmuk did not give this pot up up without fighting the battle of his life.

Of course I know that my uncle is well connected. He is the first Sith lord in aeons who discovered the benefits of a neat administration and wildly spread business connections. His former master, Darth Plagueis, had been a very prominent member of a clandestine financial group closely allied to the InterGalactic Banking Clan.

**“** **This is not the revenge of the Sith,”** I think sourly, “ **But the revenge of the bank assistants. Actually of all office staff in this galaxy.”**

Miffed, I make my way back home.

The anonymity that I had hoped for, especially in a small outpost like Jhothal far away from Capital City, is the fresh start is somewhat pointless now.

Sheev's Empire, to be born out of the ashes of the Republic, will soon spread like the Blue Shadow Virus.

There is also his growing resentment against our home world. Which is not fair of my uncle because there also had been good days for us. There had been much more than the daily thread of Grandfather Cosinga and his cat 'o nine tails.

But who am I to judge Sheev? I had been only disciplined once. He had been at the mercy of his father from birth, the unwanted and Force sensitive son.

Instead of seeking comfort in the temples of our ancestors, especially with kind and gentle Shiraya, he had dug deeply into Sith lore. Those parchments and dusty books had fitted much better into his mind set. He set out to be a ruler of the universe, keen on being the one swinging the whip forever more.

Along the way my uncle had not only lost himself, he had turned our relationship into something unhealthy, that any psychotherapist would find interesting and alarming at the same time.

With a stony face I carry the Rominaria flowers through the small streets of Jhothal.

I am sure there is an encrypted message for me hidden inside the flower pot. It is so much like my uncle to do something like that.

Of course I try to avoid news from Coruscant, while I pass excited two pedestrians, buzzing with conflicting news. But scraps of conversation come to my ears anyway.

Jedi uprising.

Chaos.

The Supreme Chancellor maimed.

Many deaths.

I do not really want to know, nor do I need to. By now I can only be sure that my message never reached Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Bail also must have had difficulties to contact Master Yoda. That eccentric little fellow has always been on tour the past years. Like a fire fighter trying to extinguish the mess my uncle had created like an arsonist.

********************************************************************

The message is inside a little capsule that is masked as a fertilizer grain. My uncle's choice of camouflage does not surprise me. He sometimes uses my favourite Terran childhood books for communication matters.

I have to smile despite all the recent misery.

In _'The Never-Ending Story'_ there is this sickly child-like empress. In one of the last scenes of the book she holds a grain of dust, the last remains of her fairytale realm, in the palm of her hand. A human boy from the other side of the mirror had presented her with a new name to ensure her survival and that of Fantasia.

My uncle is under the impression that I am his equal who declined her throne next to him. Lothal is my grain of dust. The promise of a new future on my own.

Chuckling a bit, I break the capsule and free the message. Of course I need a magnifying glass to read it. To my surprise it is not written in a secret code. He used Futhork, a style of traditional, handwritten calligraphy used by our people, the Naboo.

_Bas tujhko pukaara kare_  
_Haai haai main marjaawa marjaawa tere bin_  
_Kya bebasi hai yeh, kya majbooriyan_  
_Meri saason mein tu hai samaya_  
_Milke bhi na mile, yeh hai kaisa bharam_  
_Ab to meri raatein kat ti taare gin gin_  
_Na judaa honge hum, kabhi khushi kabhie gham_  
_Teri pooja karoon main to hardam_  
_Tere saath hongi meri duaayen, aaye kabhi na tujh pe koyi balaayen_  
_Mera dil yeh kahe, tu jahan bhi rahen_  
_Set_

Sanskrit again, which means that it is really a matter of the heart for him.

_My heart keeps calling out to you_  
_I can't think of a life without you_  
_How helpless we are, what confusion_  
_I feel you in every breath of mine_  
_We meet and yet we don't, what an illusion_  
_I spend sleepless nights counting stars in the sky_  
_We shall never part, through laughter or tears_  
_I worship you always_  
_My blessings live with you, to protect you from evil eyes_  
_My wishes for you, wherever you go_  
_Set_

The ancient Naboo legend of Set and Veré, two eternal lovers, kept apart from dire circumstances.

I close my eyes and listen to the beating of my own heart. It should be broken, but it is not. Wild and free it pounds in my chest as if nothing of great concern has happened.

Finally, it dawns to me what this is all about.

Per Sith tenets, Sheev must either 'immortalize his love', or kill those he cares for the most. Only then he achieves his full power.

And he decides to let me go. Just like that.

The dark side has not won fully. There will be a light spot in the deepest region of his distorted soul. But I do not have the power to kindle it. It will remain what it is, a single star in the darkness of unknown space.

Then I do remember that there had been a vertical line, running along side the text. I readjust the magnifier quickly.

There it is, the _post scriptum_. Written in Aurebesh.

_PS: Do what you wish, Moonchild!_

Blushing, I rush over to my data pad and scan for _'The Never-ending Story'_. My eyes fly over the letters, all appearing in the High Galactic alphabet. It takes me a while to find the right chapter, but there it is Chapter 15:

_Bastian had shown the lion the inscription on the reverse side of the Gem. “What do you suppose it means?” he asked. “DO WHAT YOU WISH. That must mean I can do anything I feel like. Don't you think so?”_

_All at once Grograman's face looked alarmingly grave, and his eyes glowed._

_“No,” he said in his deep, rumbling voice. “It means that you must do what you really and truly want. And nothing is more difficult.”_

_“What I really and truly want? What do you mean by that?”_

_“It's your own deepest secret and you yourself don't know it.”_

It is not secret. Not even to Sheev. All that I ever wanted was to have a peaceful family life with him. But it did not fit into the Sith religion that he chose for himself.

By naming me Moonchild, like the child-like Empress, he acknowledges my faith in Shiraya. She is a deity outstanding among the many gods of Naboo. She is the oldest one, the _Alma Mater_ or better to say, the nurturing mother. Her serene light is that of wisdom. This is what made her the benefactor of education and learning.

“Well played, Sheev!” I sniff.

He has not robbed me of all hope. Not all is lost to me. I still have my calling as a kindergarten teacher. Besides, I have made some precious friends and acquaintances over the years. People that I can trust, no matter what their occupation is.

I step outside my cottage, cramped with twelve wooden crates made from Wroshyr trees.

As I gaze over the grass sea an old song favourite of mine comes to mind. I hum it under my breath, because my voice lacks the beauty to sing it properly.

Suddenly, my comlink buzzes.

As I open the HoloNet to hail the caller, I am glad that Xizor insisted to install everything before he left to Coruscant again. But it is not him who makes the call.

A happy child waves at me, her red mane a total disarray and her jade green eyes full of glee. “Nagina!”

“Mara!” I breathe.

My foster-mother Gita Anil steps behind the girl, enclosing her in a loving embrace. “Hello, sweetie pie!” she greets me. “Welcome to your new home on Lothal. Kind greetings from Chandrila!”

Tears of happiness well from my eyes. “Mom.”

Chetan, her husband, makes the little family unit complete. “Sorry when we did not call earlier, but we were not sure when you would arrive on Lothal.” His homely face slightly contracts in a sneer. “ _He_ was not very specific about it.”

My uncle and my foster-father have history. They always had different opinions of how to raise me.

“Imagine, Nagina, I am living with your parents now!” A roguish smile is painted on Mara's face.

I choose my words with great care. “I am happy for you.”

Gita nods to herself.

“And I sleep in your old bed,” the girl cheers. "And I have siblings out of a sudden. So many of them."

Chetan fondles Mara right under her chin.

“Anyway, Nagina, how are you?” interrupts my foster-mother. “You must be happy to be at safe distance from Coruscant now. Dreadful events seem to go on there at present. It is whispered that the Jedi wanted to kill... S... the Supreme Chancellor. That they are the ones behind the Clone Wars.”

I simply place my right index finger on my lips.

Gita understands the signal immediately. Her iris widens now that she has the right out confirmation that my own uncle is the wrongdoer.

“We are relieved that you got that new job offer and are light years away from the Core Worlds.”

Mara's eyes grow rounder and more hopeful. “You can visit us soon, can you?”

With unhidden pride, Chetan ruffles through her red hair, which explains her current hair style. “Please let us know your new rota! Not that we are going anywhere at present, but I think that you are free to travel up to us.”

Despite his temper when it is about Sheev my foster-father understands that it is better to round up this conversation nicely. We both know that my HoloNet calls might get listened into. This is why most of my friends and acquaintances have different means of contacting me.

“Of course, dad. You will be the first to know.” I smile bravely, even though I am not sure how safe travelling within the frontiers of the fallen Republic will be. A _coup d'etat_ always comes with a price for normal citizens like me.

********************************************************************

The start of the kindergarten year is still three weeks away. That gives me plenty of time to unpack my crates and build myself a new nest. A home that will be absolutely free from the shadows of the New Galactic Empire.

Smiling, I step on my small ladder and dive with my hands into the moving crate, that is marked with 'private affairs'. The polystyrene pellets feel funny between my fingers. I hope that they are really as biodegradable as the manufacturers claim.

Soon, I find the familiar shape that I am looking for. The actual holoframe is wrapped in my favourite towel. The assembled size is 375×290×20 mm. In his life time my husband always had been a larger than life personality. This is why I have not chosen for a pompous big frame.

I decide to put the memento on a side board. It shows Barin and me at our wedding day, both donned in green wedding robes as it is custom among his people.

The marriage ceremony had been a very private affair on one of the famous Gold Beaches of Corellia. Only my foster-parents and Sheev had been present. The ceremony itself had been conducted by Maxiron Agolerga – a Naboo holy man and acquaintance of my uncle.

Longingly, my index finger strokes the face that has hovered above mine so passionately thousands of times. His kisses had always been as sweet as honey, teasing me mercilessly.

_“Jeboe'i,”_ I whisper in Olys Corellisi, gazing at my mischievously grinning husband. _Thief._

For he would always remain the thief of my heart.

Grief collides in my chest and I suck in a deep breath.

To find my _equilibrium_ again, I turn my wedding band back and forth on the left ring finger.

There is a deep-seated Corellian burial tradition. The ash of a cremated body gets compressed into synthetic diamonds. But the explosion had not left me much to bemoan. Barin literally had become star dust. Therefore Sheev had a snow globe made for me, filled with dust of asteroids, meteors and comets.

My approach is doomed to fail. Soon, tears dwell and a sob creeps out of my throat.

There is a deep-seated Corellian burial tradition. The ash of a cremated body gets compressed into synthetic diamonds. But the explosion had not left me much to bemoan. Barin literally had become star dust. Therefore Sheev had a snow globe made for me, filled with dust of asteroids, meteors and comets.

I storm back onto the ladder and keep looking out feverishly for that present.

It seems to take hours, but then I hold the glass ball in my hand. It has about the size of my palm.

With a prayer to Shiraya on my lips I shake the snow globe soundly. The flakes dance around wild and free.

_“The moon she dances_  
_Like the waves_  
_Like the waves_  
_On the shore_  
_Making circles_  
_Making circles_  
_Like the waves_  
_Like the waves_  
_On the shore”_

Repeating the arcane chant makes me feel way better.

Barin would want me to go on bravely. And he would hate me telling him the odds of that possibility.

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that for a Corellian, beating the odds is always a reward in itself.

_“Aanor ishiia zals,”_ I memorize Barin's favourite saying. _Love conquers all._

I put down the snow globe and place it next to the holoframe.

“Perfect,” I say to myself, somewhat proud now.

Suddenly, I notice the solar altitude. I have wasted quiet enough time on feeling nostalgic. It is time for some action.

Determined, I step out of my cottage.

A grocery store is always a good place to get new ideas. I recall to have seen one farther north.

********************************************************************

Lothal has good soil. I will be able to make almost everything grow in this garden. Sheev always jokes about me being a perfect member for the Jedi Service Corps if I would ever give up the education sector. Well, he blasted that chance for me this week. So I just sick to home garding.   
  
Gazing through the open window, I spot the miniature Firethorn tree, that Xizor has given me as a house-warming present. Those plants are considered extremely rare. I wonder if he would regard me as an uncivilized barbarian if I dare to set its tortured roots free in this very garden.    
  
I kneel down to kindle the basil plant that I got from the grocery store before it closed down. It already feels at home I can tell.   
  
Then I walk over to the sunflowers, who a remnant of the previous owner.    
  
“ Hello, neighbour!” a deep, male voice greets me.   
  
I quickly turn towards the gate.   
  
An Ithorian stands in front of me. The tall alien has  brown skin,  yellow eyes and no hair. “I am Jho,” he introduces himself  through his translator in Basic  and stretches his long, curving neck. “But everybody around here calls me 'Old Jho' though.”   
  
“ My name is Nagina, Nagina Samye,” I answer and exchange hands with him over the wooden fence. I like the feel of his long, stick-like fingers. “Would you like to come in? But I only have some local root tea at hand. I am not sure where exactly my Alderaanian tea supplies are.”   
  
I can swear that his unique set of twin mouths on opposite sides of his necks is smiling at my offer. “I love root tea, my dear.”    
  
With that the Ithorian opens the garden door and enters my little realm.    
  
Only now I see that he has brought a wooden box full of asters with him. They shine in autumnal colours: dark red, bright orange, acidic yellow and purple.   
  
“ Are those for me?” I exclaim, my voice as high as that of an excited child.   
  
His T-shaped head bows towards me a bit. “I did not want to come empty handed.”

******************************************************************

Old Jho and I stay in the garden for a while. My progress with the plants since I moved in impress him. He is also enthusiastic about the walk-in herb spiral that I started building on the lawn yesterday, shortly after Xizor had left.

We select a site with full sun and kneel down to plant his asters together.

“Where does a devotee of plants like you hail from?” he asks after a while.

I am tempted to give him Naboo as my birth planet, but I drop the name of Chandrilla instead.

“This is why you chose Lothal?” he inquires carefully.

“A new kindergarten opens here and I was too upset after all what happened on Coruscant recently.”

The sadness in his eyes is for real. “Were you there on the day when the Republic fell?”

Now I threat on dangerous ground. “My working place got destroyed during the space battle for the Chancellor's freedom.”

This is in itself no lie, just a sad fact. I can give him as many facts as he wants, but not the details. Never the details. And certainly not the full truth. Boba had me practise that over and over again.

“Will your family follow you soon?” the Ithorian says.

“There is not much of a family, I am afraid.” I nervously lick over my dry lips. “The Clone Wars made me a widow three years ago. Apart from my foster-family I have nobody left.”

He looks confused. “But the kindergarten?”

“Ah!” I begin to understand the reason for his distress. “I have no children myself, but I am a kindergarten teacher.”

Now Old Jho makes a flustered impression. “I am sorry that I have misunderstood you, Nagina.”

“Ach, I am a chitter-chatter-box at times. Not really making sense.”

Before an embarrassed silence can fall, I invite him into the house. I realise my mistake too late.

The Ithorian gasps for air.

My present from Xizor. Of course it is in full display in the living-room. I am such a silly bantha cow.

“A very eccentric friend of mine pushed that poor tree on me.” Quickly, I step towards the Firethorn and lift it. “I am to trim it only once a year.”

Old Jho stares at me wide eyed as if in shock. I have a very good guess why that is.

Dwarf versions of the Firethorn are worth a decamillion credits. That I possess one as a seemingly common kindergarten teacher is very unlikely.

I shuffle my feet. “Six-hundred years in a plant pot can be an awfully long time. Do you think that he would make it outside?”

Slowly, the Ithorian recovers his speech. “You could try. But your rich friend might find out about it. And he might not like it.”

I take a deep breath. “He is one of the wealthiest, most powerful men in the galaxy. Accustomed to getting anything he wants. Anything at all.”

The kindness returns into my neighbour's features. “A female like you must be a big challenge for him.” A deep grumble rolls from his body. It is laughter. Then his gaze is directed at the holoframe of Barin and me, which makes him change the subject. “Your husband must have been a very happy person in his life time.”

I am glad that the Ithorian does not make any ugly comment about dwarfism. Alien races deal better with that subject than humans. “Barin was a complete scoundrel through and through, but very loyal and loving,” I say.

Lost in thought Old Jho nods. “Corellians have a bigger heart than they are given credit for.”

Glad, that I was able to defend my reputation as well as my past, I pipe up, “Would you like to have some root tea now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources: An extract from the Fantasy Novel “The Never-ending Story” by the German writer of fantasy and children´s fiction Michael Ende (1929 - 1995)  
> Again several lyrical lines from the Bollywood movie “Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham” (2001), direcet by Karan Johar  
> A Wicca chant  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Enzyklopedia
> 
> Inspirational song for this chapter: the song “Lovers”, interpreted by Jackie Evancho, originally from the movie “House of Flying Daggers”


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13:**

Old Jho and I are so comfortable around one another, that it takes us a long time to depart from one another again.

“If you do not feel like cooking or need company, you are more than welcome in my cantina,” he says.

The offer is genuine. I detect no falsehood in my neighbour whatsoever, which is rather refreshing after all my recent dealings with courtiers of my uncle's shadow cabinet.

“Actually, 'Old Jho's Pit Stop' is hard to miss,” he moves on. “It has a repair facility next to it.”

He also owns a garage! This explains why the Ithorian knows so much about Corellians. Cantinas are said to be their water holes, but repair facilities are their heart beat. Or at least those of their beloved star ships.

It is a pity that I can never invite Barin for a drink in Old Jho's place. Being an enthusiastic hobby mechanic with rocket fuel in his veins, he would have loved to be regular costumer. I am sure of it.

“Perhaps you already see me tomorrow night,” I consider, pushing my regret away. “My oven is still not working properly and I have no oil for the hot stone either.”

Two Ithorian mouths seem to make silent mockery of me.

“Okay, I am too lazy to cock at present,” I admit.

He winks at me. “I think that I can offer you exactly what you need to feed yourself decently.”

In my head I already say good-bye to my diet plans.

“Some Jogan fruit cake would suit you well,”Old Jho considers. “Or blue milk custard.”

My stomach makes treacherous sounds.

“You certainly need spiced nysillin tea to fix that,” he points out with another wink.

“I better stick to root tea.”

“Good choice!” The Ithorian sounds very pleased with me.

********************************************************************

Two days later a tall human comes around. He is donned in a wool coat. Underneath it I spot a humble linen tunic and something that I assume to be a survival belt. There is no light sabre attached to it, though he vaguely reminds me of a Jedi knight. But the Force is not with him. Apart from a large bouquet of field flowers there is nothing unusual about him

“Lor San Tekka,” he introduces himself. “I believe that we are neighbours.”

He points out the tiny cottage next to mine, that has a neglected garden. The fruits are ungarnered and there is weed everywhere. Many butterflies take advantage of it.

“Nagina Samye,” I state and extend my hand to him. Only then I notice that he has blue eyes. It startles me. But I have no chance to draw back from him. His handshake is firm and gentle alike.

“I believe that you moved in three days prior to me,” he says.

Soon, I come to understand that he is some kind of explorer, but he is reluctant to reveal his field of expertise.

We talk on, while the sun shine dances on his brown hair.

When I notice that night fall approaches, I invite him in for dinner, which is just to be a humble fruit salad with white yoghurt.

He agrees without hesitation.

********************************************************************

“The rumour goes that you are from the core worlds,” he challenges me once we sit down in the living-room together. “It was brought to my attention when I went shopping this morning.”

“How come?” I ask, even though I know the answer. Xizor's flight manoeuvres might have attracted the attention of everybody living in this hemisphere.

My embarrassed tell-tale face is scanned inch by inch before Lor San Tekka continues speaking. “Not only was a Coruscanti transport ship seen in this area, but there was a pretty posh yacht too.”

“I did not choose my ride,” I sigh. “It choose me.”

He crooks his head slightly, his alert gaze never leaving my face. “There is much to wonder about your flight from Coruscant. Even apart from the means and timing of it.”

Suddenly I want the explorer out of my house, but I was raised to be polite. Especially to guests at the dinner table.

His eyes go soft, like melting polar ice. “Master Yoda told me once that we are luminous beings, not crude matter.“Sadness drenches his voice. “Now he is one with the Force.”

“No,” I gasp.

“Some of my friends believe him to have been killed in the siege of the Jedi Temple. Alongside Anakin Skywalker.”

The news hit hard. “The General is dead? The temple destroyed?”

“You have not paid any attention to the HoloNews the past days, have you?”

In regret, I shake my head.

“Many good people died all over the galaxy it seems.” He pauses and sucks in deep, steadying breaths. “Like Senator Amidala of Naboo.”

“Padmé,” I wheeze, which earns me a puzzled look. Especially when I add, “He killed her despite the baby.”

I flee for the toilet, which is a childish thing to do. But I cannot help it.

********************************************************************

Lor San Tekka waits for me right in front of the door, a steaming tea mug in his hand. “Blue chamomile,” he says, his intense gaze scanning me in unnerving ways again. “This herb helps against stomach cramps, Mistress Samye.”

“Pray, why in the Name of the Force would I need it?” I clip.

“Because of the retching and groaning!”

I take the mug, but leave its contents untouched. It could contain a truth serum or an anaesthetic for all I know.

“You do not trust me,” Lor San Tekka remarks, his mood hard to fathom. “I wonder what I did to offend you so much.”

My heart beats faster. “It is not...”

He rises a hand in defence. “It should be me, not trusting you, Nagina.”

This statement makes my face crumple.

“Yes, you are a kindergarten teacher. And, as far as I can tell from all the plants on this property, a skilled gardener.” He takes a step closer. “But there are many odd things about the story of your life.”

Before I can protest, he dives for something in a side pocket of his vest.

“I give you an example for my misgivings.”

The Sith brooch from my uncle shines through the hallway in all her ghostly beauty.

“You should not have this! It is a jewel from the Old Sith Empire,” Lor San Tekka bites out. It seems to cost him a lot of strength to calm himself. “I would say its origin is Koriban. And that it was made at some point during the Golden Age, perhaps even during the reign of terror by Sith Lord Ieldis.”

Old self-protection mechanisms come alive. One tells me that silence is my best defence.

His face is twisted with grief. He looks haggard. Completely wrung out. “Rainbow gems and Firethron trees are one thing, but this item here is pure evil. Look at the Lignan crystals embedded in it! They have been washed in the blood of innocent beings. It turned them crimson.”

There is a strange smell in the air. It is certainly not the chamomile.

Some kind of mist rises from his closed fist.

It seems that the Sith brooch burns him, yet he holds on to it, controlling his pain at a great price.

“I came to Lothal to find the secret Jedi temple, where I can hide some items of great value from all this mindless destruction going on. But instead I find this filth... and you.”

The glow becomes more intense as the brooch unleashes more of its ancient malice.

A single tear leaks out of my eyes. “Please let go!” I beg Lor San Tekka. “It will kill you.”

“Perhaps it can, if I allow it to do so.” I notice a fine shimmer of sweat settling on his brow. “But what ails me even more is, what has this Sith artefact done to you?”

“Nothing!” I screech like a night owl.

For several heartbeats Lor San Tekka just gazes at me. “I am not so sure!” he announces. “These artefacts are poisonous. To the soul actually more than to a mere body.”

With a soft pling the brooch collides with the floor. I drop to the ground with it. Rather unceremoniously, like a sack of potatoes.

********************************************************************

When I wake up in my own bed, I lie in a state. I do not like it a bit, even though there is no flower bouquet in my hand. With a yelp, I sit up.

Lor San Tekka towers above me, silent and immobile. Like a Naboo stone colossus of the Elders.

“I want you to leave now!” I say.

My voice does not possess the edge that I had hoped for. It is too meek now that I have noticed that my portable comlink is not around my left wrist any more. Instead of the bracelet there is a bandage.

Lor San Tekka reaches out with his unblemished hand. He strokes my left cheek with the gentleness of a Naboo spring breeze. “Do not be afraid! I had to take your communicator off, because you badly hurt yourself, when you fell on it.”

This is definitely not good.

“You slept for three hours and would not wake up.”

This is even worse.

“Leave!” I demand in a toneless voice. This single word is all that I can manage.

Lor San Tekka sits down on the mattress instead. “Do you happen to have information on the murder of Senator Amidala?”

I wonder if I will be able to find my comlink any time soon. It is my duty to contact Boba. This is clearly the emergency scenario that he always feared: somebody getting at me for my uncle's crimes.

“I am not charging you with anything, Nagina, but I believe that you know more about that poor woman's demise than you should.” With a sigh, Lor San Tekka pushes his thick brown hair back from his forehead. “You might have gotten a bad concussion there. There is no way that I am leaving your side any time soon!”

I sink back into my pillows, closing my eyes.

“Are you feeling sick again?” A slight worry swings in his voice. “Please tell me if it is the case! Old Jho can notify the next hospital immediately.”

For a moment I weigh up the odds. Sheev would not be overly amused to see my name appearing on a list of ER patients. He would not only send Boba to Lothal, he would send anybody available to report on the situation. Things would get out of hand and therefore very messy.

“No,” I sigh, thinking of the only time I had seen him enact a massacre. “It is not worth the trouble.”

“Are you sure?” Lor San Tekka probes.

“Just put a bucket next to my bed and leave!”

“You will get the bucket, but I will not leave you alone like this,” he insists.

I am too weak to be really furious, let alone to argue any longer. So, I just remain lying in my bed.

I try hard to forget the galaxy for a while, leave alone my scattered thoughts about the _'Day of Wrath'_. Sheev had told me not to watch, but I had not been very obedient.

There are sights that burn into the lenses of the eyes forever.

The touch of a hand makes me jerk up in bed again.

My eyes fly open.

“Ho, Nagina!” Lor San Tekka attempts to calm me. “I just wanted to be sure that you had not passed out. You were so awfully silent and pale.”

“There is not much to say,” I offer, because all the things that I can think of are offensive to him.

“Then let me do all the necessary talking instead!” He sticks his hands in his trouser pockets and begins to pace through my bedroom. “I cannot stand seeing you this fearful of me.”

Suppressing a smile, I watch Lor San Tekka clear his throat and make his best effort to appear non-threatening.

“But I feel that you are the clue to the whole nightmare that happened on Coruscant,” he moves on.

There is something like hope in his eyes, but I have none to offer. I can hardly console myself. “You are talking to the wrong person, Lor San Tekka.”

Heat washes through my veins as he gazes back at me. There is still nothing unfriendly in that look. Nothing grim.

“I cannot expect honesty from you. I know that. But within a few days I have lost almost all of my social contacts. Jedi friends that I have known from childhood are gone. Their deaths came so suddenly and took place all over the galaxy. I cannot understand what happened.”

Tears prickle behind my eyelids. His sweetness wounds me more than any light sabre could have done. Let alone the Force lightning that my uncle can produce with his bare hands.

“I was in town to meet some friends among the Jedi Order. When I gazed out of my down-town hostel, I saw the Jedi Temple burning. I ran there without thinking. Many clone troopers were there. Threatening civilians who wanted to help. Dead padawans were scattered on the temple staircase like fallen leaves.”

I bite my lips as more tears threaten.

“A hooded man in black was their commander, but I could not see his face. It was all bathed in shadows.”

Of course, Sheev had been leading his clone troops into victory. Too long he had waited for the return of the Sith. For their revenge.

“I know a secret side entrance inside the Jedi Temple. A dear confidant made it known to me many years ago. Despite the danger, I sneaked into the most sacred heart of the temple.”

I brace myself for more heartbreak to come.

“There were bodies everywhere, mostly teenagers, but also some younglings. The youngest were barely two years of age.”

In silence the tears break out of me with the force of the Dee'ja Peak waterfall, but I continue to listen.

“In one of the classrooms, I stuffed all that I could into my back pack: holocrons, a manual, data pads, a light sabre that somebody had forgotten. Then I had to leave. More and more clone troopers entered the building. When I returned later on with an empty bag pack to save more items, the entire complex was closed down hermetically. So I decided to leave town with my precious belongings.”

A cotton handkerchief is offered to me, crinkled but clean.

“Nagina, I can see that you are a good person. That you have somehow gotten yourself in a big mess.” His voice is pressed, full of emotions. “But please, if there is anything that you can tell me who is responsible for all that mindless slaughter. Perhaps even for the death of Senator Amidala and her baby, then this is the right moment to do so.”

But I cannot answer. All I can do is to cry my eyes out. I have become the Solleu River.

Now my uncle is truly dead. Unredeemable. And in his wake he destroyed everything that I held dear.

********************************************************************

To explain myself to Bail a couple of days ago has not been a problem. He is a face of my past, of happier times. We are connected in many ways, even though he is very different from the type of people that I usually let into my life.

Boba, Asajj, Xizor, Mister Bane and Mister Ohnaka – all of them are a little out of touch, slightly insane. I can deal with them, because I am slightly broken inside as well. Because I share their history of violence to a certain extend.

Men like Lor San Tekka are fatal to me, real poison. They are too sweet, too honest in a galaxy that has gone mad. If I let him into my heart, he will break it. Not out of malice, but simply by accident.

“There is a prayer in my home community of Jedha. It fits to you, Nagina,” he says as he slumps back down on the mattress again.

Eagerly, I wait to be enlightened.

_“In you all things consist and hang together:_   
_The very atom is light energy,_   
_the grass is vibrant,_   
_the rocks pulsate._   
_All is in flux; turn but a stone and an angel moves...”_

I sigh.

There are never trumpets when I reveal myself, never a choir in the background singing sinister hymns of the Sith. The naked truth just creates an uncomfortable silence. Then there is a lot of staring. In most cases, I end up getting pitied and hugged.

I wonder what Lor San Tekka will do. People from his small desert moon are known to be philosophers and pious people with forgiving hearts.

“Sheev Palpatine is the last in line of a Sith tradition that Darth Bane started, unless... he managed to find a new apprentice by now,” I say, scanning his face. “His last apprentice – Count Dooku – has been recently beheaded by General Skywalker.”

Lor San Tekka reaches for my tea mug and finishes it in one clean go. His face is somewhat ashen now. The hand that hold the mug is shaky like that of an old man. His breath is irregular. “The Sith are back?” he groans.

“They were never gone,” I prompt. “They hid in plain sight for centuries, concentrating on networking with dark allies. Politics and trade became their new weapons. The Jedi Order never wanted to look into their direction.”

He puts the mug down on the night cabinet and gets up abruptly. “If you would excuse me now, I need fresh air.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources: Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Enzyklopedia
> 
> Inspirational song for this chapter: the score “What Are You Asking Me” composed by James Newton Howard for the movie “The Village”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *SPOILER ALERT*
> 
> Her new neighbour does not return. Nagina searches the HoloNet for the latest news from Coruscant and is confronted with her uncle's “Declaration of a New Order”. He made himself emperor. 
> 
> Instead of Lor San Tekka a familiar face from the past turns up in her humble home, bringing flowers with him. It is Orson Krennic, her former babysitter child from Chandrila. He seems to be a high ranking officer in the army of the New Galactic Empire. 
> 
> Soon, Nagina is confronted with the bitter truth: she is a hostage of Sheev. And the boy she helped to grow up is her jailer. She will not be allowed to meet everybody she longs for.

**Chapter 14:**

Lor San Tekka acts like the highway man in one of my favourite love poems. He does not come in the dawning; he does not return at noon.

More than once I catch myself gazing out of the living-room window, beating the devil's tattoo on the sill.

_“Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot!”_

So much for his sense of responsibility, for his willingness to forgive me my multitude of sins. Or my family circumstances.

With great difficulties I manage my visits to the toilet all by myself. I even get into one of my night dresses.

To be bereft of a functional right hand is quite a bummer. Without bacta it might take weeks to heal. But I need to be functional for the start of the kindergarten year.

Gloomily, I switch on the holonet for some news.

I had sworn to myself to stay away from the media, but I needed to know what is going on out there.

A special broadcast seems to be put on iteration loop: _’The Declaration of a New Order’_.

The second I click on it, I get a static picture from a transmittance directly from the senate.

I find my uncle utterly altered. His face is distorted like that of a Koriban zombie. Something horrible must have happened to him.

_“Citizens of the civilized galaxy, on this day we mark a transition. For a thousand years, the Republic stood as the crowning achievement of civilized beings. But there were those who would set us against one another, and we took up arms to defend our way of life against the Separatists. In so doing, we never suspected that the greatest threat came from within._

_The Jedi, and some within our own Senate, had conspired to create the shadow of Separatism using one of their own as the enemy's leader. They had hoped to grind the Republic into ruin. But the hatred in their hearts could not be hidden forever. At last, there came a day when our enemies showed their true natures._

_The Jedi hoped to unleash their destructive power against the Republic by assassinating the head of government and usurping control of the clone army. But the aims of would-be tyrants were valiantly opposed by those without elitist, dangerous powers. Our loyal clone troopers contained the insurrection within the Jedi Temple and quelled uprisings on a thousand worlds._

_The remaining Jedi will be hunted down and defeated! Any collaborators will suffer the same fate. These have been trying times, but we have passed the test. The attempt on my life has left me scarred and deformed, but I assure you my resolve has never been stronger. The war is over. The Separatists have been defeated, and the Jedi rebellion has been foiled. We stand on the threshold of a new beginning. In order to ensure our security and continuing stability, the Republic will be reorganized into the first Galactic Empire, for a safe and secure society, which I assure you will last for ten thousand years. An Empire that will continue to be ruled by this august body and a sovereign ruler chosen for life. An Empire ruled by the majority, ruled by a new constitution!_

_By bringing the entire galaxy under one law, one language, and the enlightened guidance of one individual, the corruption that plagued the Republic in its later years will never take root. Regional governors will eliminate the bureaucracy that allowed the Separatist movement to grow unchecked. A strong and growing military will ensure the rule of law._

_Under the Empire's New Order, our most cherished beliefs will be safeguarded. We will defend our ideals by force of arms. We will give no ground to our enemies and will stand together against attacks from within or without. Let the enemies of the Empire take heed: those who challenge Imperial resolve will be crushed._

_We have taken on a task that will be difficult, but the people of the Empire are ready for the challenge. Because of our efforts, the galaxy has traded war for peace and anarchy for stability. Billions of beings now look forward to a secure future. The Empire will grow as more planets feel the call, from the Rim to the wilds of unknown space._

_Imperial citizens must do their part. Join our grand star fleet. Become the eyes of the Empire by reporting suspected insurrectionists. Travel to the corners of the galaxy to spread the principles of the New Order to barbarians. Build monuments and technical wonders that will speak of our glory for generations to come._

_The clone troopers, now proudly wearing the name of Imperial storm troopers, have tackled the dangerous work of fighting our enemies on the front lines. Many have died in their devotion to the Empire. Imperial citizens would do well to remember their example._

_The New Order of peace has triumphed over the shadowy secrecy of shameful magicians. The direction of our course is clear. I will lead the Empire to glories beyond imagining._

_We have been tested, but we have emerged stronger. We move forward as one people: the Imperial citizens of the first Galactic Empire. We will prevail. Ten thousand years of peace begins today.”_

I close my eyes and switch of the broadcast.

An old saying of our Naboo forebears is that one star's end is a black hole's beginning.

The entire galaxy is trapped into an event horizon and my uncle is the force who keeps us all in limbo.

If Lor San Tekka saw this special broadcast, too, he will never return to me. I am sure of it.

********************************************************************

The dawn brings an unexpected visitor into my home, carrying a huge bouquet of Gladioli. The sword lilies are as white and crisp as his military uniform.

I frown at him, neglect my tea bag.

“Ina,” the tall human man greets me informally as he enters my kitchen.

“Orson!” I gasp for it has to be him. Only he ever used that nickname. Anxious, I wait for confirmation.

Finally, my visitor inclines his head slightly and takes off his green army cap. Bright-blue eyes gaze at me full of adoration and love.

“It is really you!” I squeal.

Orson Krennic's hair is wavy light-brown, but less dishevelled then it used to be in his childhood. I suppose a high ranking officer cannot afford to have a bad hair day.

“I am sorry for my intrusion, but you did not answer the door,” he points out, a tender rebuke in his voice. “Nor did care to you lock it!”

“It is not necessary around here, believe me!” I beam. “This is a really nice neighbourhood. Like it was back for us on Chandrila.”

He breaks eye contact to glare into my garden. “Let us hope it stays this way!”

“What gives me the honour of your surprise visit?” I inquire.

“The honour is fully on my side,” he says. There is a faint tremor in his throaty, smoky voice. “May I hug the wonderful person who used to babysit me?”

I scoff. “The last time we met, you told me to take a dive into a sarlacc pit and never return.”

“This is not fair!” he protests and sounds very much like the temperamental child I saw growing up. “I was but eight year old and angry at the University of Alderaan for taking you away from me.”

I let him embrace me. His breath tickles my skin, while I let him give me the traditional Chandrilan kiss of greeting. His lips touch my left cheek, then my right one and then the left again.

“Amazing, you still smell of grass and flowers!” he remarks. “But then again: you were always an outside person.”

“Is this an official business?” I ask and step back, peering at his insignia.

Orson opens his collar a bit and takes off his black leather gloves, sticking them into his belt. “No, it is more a private call.” He points as my bandage. “But pray, what happened to you?”

“I fell last night,” I hope I do not speak too hastily. “A neighbour took care of me, but... she... she could not stay. She had work to do in the city centre.”

Orson nods to that, obviously not noticing my lies. “I can keep you company, if you want me to. I happen to have two days off.”

Sheev is behind this. This visit is no coincidence. I am not a total fool.

********************************************************************

My special guest takes up camp in my living-room and uses my sofa as his personal bunk. While he puts the bed sheet on, he finds a single black hair in between the cracks. It is awfully long and I curse myself for not having cleaned up properly. There might be some treacherous reptile scales as well.

“Has your neighbour slept in your home?” he wonders, while he turns the hair around mid-air. His lips are more narrow than usual.

I do not wish to tell him about either Xizor and fib, “Yes, she has.”

Not much later Orson walks into my bathroom and changes. When he comes out, he wears a dark woollen sweater and equally dark work trousers.

At nightfall we sit at the living-room table and enjoy Naboo lettuce with balsamico and fresh raspberries. I am still proud that a plant of my native planet manages so nicely on Lothal. At least in this my uncle chose my exile well.

“Should I ask who exactly gave you my current address?” I inquire after a tactful while of shared silence. “Or is that classified?”

“I am glad so little has changed, Ina. You still ask questions that you already know the answer to, don't you?” He drops his voice as if to offer a state secret. “I can assure you that the Emperor tries to make sure that you are safe. Even if you fail to lock your property.”

“I wish Sheev would just leave me be,” I sigh and from his frown I take it that Orson did not know my uncle's birth name before. “If he goes on like that, the worst case scenario will take place! One of his enemies will bring me down.”

“Nobody will harm you.” He is silent for a moment, considering his further answer. I am not fond of lame promises. He still remembers that. “For you the Emperor will not even touch the local kyber crystal mines. A pity, if you ask me. Here on Lothal the crystals are so extra ordinarily big, hold so much potential.”

I look Orson straight in the eyes, remembering his fondness for power and dangerous toys. The blaster that he build all by himself had killed the family dog by accident. He had been so heartbroken.

I consider all the facts, before I challenge him, “You are not involved into building some kind of super weapon, are you?”

For a brief heartbeat his countenance wavers. Then his features become unfathomable again. “Why would you ask such a thing?”

“Sheev has this plans for a huge battle station since the Battle of Geonosis. Now that he made himself Emperor, I wonder if he will get back to that pet project of his.”

“Oh, Ina, I begin to understand why you are out here in the middle of nowhere.” Admiration and pain are written in his blue eyes. “You analyse others too much.”

I put my cutlery away, not hungry any more. “You mean too well?” I snap.

“As a child I was afraid of your ability to read me. You seemed to be some kind of witch. A white one, mind you, but a witch anyway.” He dabs his mouth with a napkin and pushes his half-empty plate away. “Right now, I pity the fact that you will never join the Empire on its way to success. You are too liberal in your views. ”

“Tyranny is never an enduring success.” I lift my chin. “Have you learned nothing from the fairy tales that I read to you for your bed time? In the end villains always loose against the good guys.”

He studies my face. “With you as our military leader the Clone Wars would have been a different affair altogether. You would have given some of the Separatist leaders a time-out on the _'naughty step'_. Or make them hug wounded Jedi Generals after a battle, telling them that they are sorry. Unfortunately, such strategies work in a kindergarten setting only, but not in real life.”

I crease up my napkin and throw it on my plate. “Why are you really here? Certainly not to make mockery of me. Or to criticize my point of view.”

“ _We_ cannot stop someone like Prince Xizor to pay you his respect. He is a force of nature to be reckoned with. But _we_ will keep the scum of this galaxy away from your door.”

“That scum used to be useful to Sheev when he needed them!” I exclaim. “I always regarded them as persons in their own right.”

“Ina,” Orson says evenly, “Each bounty hunter that you are acquainted to, would take you into custody and sell you to the highest bidder. At any time. With no remorse whatsoever. And you know it to be true. Those men and women have no honour.”

“And Imperial officers like you have?”

His face reddens slightly. “ _Fair crack of the whip_ , Ina!” He even falls back into his old Chandrilan farmer accent. “Your concept of honour does not fit the standards of the New Galactic Empire any longer. Many of the things that you believe in are out-dated.”

“And you want to give me that certain update long due? Override my programme? Just like that?” I put my hands on my hips. “Will you use white torture on me? Or drugs?”

“Are you suggesting, I could harm you? _G_ 'arn!” he asks, unbelievingly. "The woman who taught me how to walk, how to use a scissor and even how to use the toilet like a real man?”

I watch him sink down on his chair, his face in his hands.

“I am not your enemy, Ina. I am here to put some things straight. Why do you hate _us_ so much?” He runs a hand through his hair. “The Emperor warned me that this was not an easy mission. That it would be a test of my will power and my nerves. How well he knows you!”

I cannot stand seeing Orson so agitated. He means well, so does my uncle, but I do not reacted well to a cage. Both men should know that. “Do all of my future visitors need to check in with you before seeing me?”

Something like relief spreads over his face. “With your circle of friends and acquaintances it is always difficult to say who is an enemy of the state and who is not.”

“This is very judgemental, don't you think?” I challenge him.

Orson rubs his hands together. “Let us play a strategy game to manifest the rules for the right to visit you here on Lothal,” he says.

He makes it sound like I have a say, as if I can make any difference. But I know that I do not. Sheev already has my life planned. He only sends Orson, somebody that I have tender feelings for, to cement his will. This is the worst form of manipulation imaginable.

********************************************************************

I let Orson bring the dishes and cutlery into the kitchen, while I feverishly search for the board games that I have already unpacked.

After some extreme pondering, I choose _'Triominos'_ , a game that is based on the principle of 'Dominoes'. The players have to chose tiles that match up to other tiles in the play area. The goal is to gather points and to be rid of one's own tiles.

I place the titles on the table. They are triangles with numbers that are matched on each side. Each triangle has three numbers at the points. With each move a player makes the two numbers on the side need to be matched.

Orson approves of my choice and sits down.

Around midnight and two more board games further – _'Take It Easy'_ and _'Digit'_ – I at least have won the right to have my foster-parents and little Mara visit me. Old kindergarten colleagues and former wards will also be welcome on Lothal soil.

We say good-night to one another in a civilized manner, because I am too tired to argue. Too upset to speak up against the injustice and manipulation that occurred here tonight.

I walk into the kitchen to pull myself a mug of lavender tea.

Sheev and Orson call it protection, but it is a special form of house arrest really. I know too many secrets and obviously too many people in this galaxy.

********************************************************************

While I am brushing my teeth there is a knock at the window. Very soft, uncertain almost. I open it and am confronted with an upset Lor San Tekka immediately. His clothing is dirty and his hair but a mess. Blades of grass stick in it.

“That Imperial visitor of yours, is he a danger to you?” he whispers as he scans me thoroughly.

“No, ….he is just... somebody... that I used to know,” I speak with foam in my mouth.

His blue-gray eyes warm. He smiles hesitantly, a sweet, shy smile that makes my knees go weak. “You seem to know a lot of people in this galaxy, Nagina,” he says.

I spit the foam out and clean my mouth with some water, before I answer back, “Now you sound exactly like my uncle. He always criticized that ability of mine to connect with others.”

“Your uncle. Of course.” His face is as white as the moonlight outside. The whole truth dawns on him. “Now I can stop to wonder why Palpatine left you alive after his _coup d'état_.”

“Love is the answer,” I say, sounding a bit pert. “And Sheev sent me off before he became the Emperor. Before he unleashed the whole power of the dark side.”

Lor San Tekka scratches his chin. “You need to brief me about your uncle's heart another time.”

“So this is not a definitive good-bye?” I shuffle my feet nervously. I had not realized how badly I want his trust. How important it is to me.

He laughs and it is a warm hum in the cool autumn night. Suddenly, he reaches through the window to touch my left cheek, allowing his fingers to glide over my skin. “You have some tooth paste there,” he explains without answering my question.

“Really?” My lips tremble even though my heart makes a joyful leap.

With the edge of his sleeve Lor San Tekka starts cleaning, but then he stops altogether. Something flickers in his eyes.

Before I can ask myself what is wrong, he shoves his torso through the window frame. He cups my face in both hands and kisses my forehead.

_“This night and every night_  
_the Force grant to you light._  
_This night and every night_  
_the Force grant to you peace._  
_This night and every night_  
_the Force grant to you rest._  
_This night and every night_  
_the Force grant to you grace._  
_This night and every night_  
_the Force grant to you joy.”_

A good night blessing.

It pleases me that he is not running for the hills.

“I have something else for you still.” Lor San Tekka places a single daisy on the window sill, closing the fingers of my healthy hand around it. “Now I better get going again. Your overnight guest wears a uniform of the newly formed intelligence forces.”

“Orson is more an engineer and scientist,” I explain. “Always was.”

“Which does not make him any less dangerous. In the sithly grip of your uncle everybody might turn into a weapon sooner or later.” He hesitates. “Be brave! And may the Force be with you. At least until we meet again! ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources: “The Whole Earth Shall Cry Glory” – A George MacLeod prayer from the Iona Community  
> Palpatine´s “Declaration of a New Order”, written by Daniel Wallace and Pablo Hidalgo  
> The strategy game “Triominos”, invented by Allan Cowan  
> The board game “Take-it-easy”, invented by Peter Burley  
> The card and stick game “Digit”, invented by ?  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Enzyklopedia 
> 
> Inspirational song for this chapter: the score “What Are You Asking Me” composed by James Newton Howard for the movie “The Village”
> 
> Translation from the Chandrilan rural dialect into Basic:  
> Fair crack of the whip! = Give me a break!  
> G´arn! = Go on, you´re kidding!


	15. Chapter 15

** Chapter 15: **

The sound of guitar strings wakes me in the morning. Since Barin died the instrument has remained silent. Curious, I sneak into my living-room to find the musician.

Tousled from sleep Orson's hair is the brilliant mess that it used to be in his childhood. Bare feet and just in pyjama trousers he sits on the sofa. His back is turned to me.

Leaning against the door frame, I watch him attune the strings. He shows patience and skill.

When he finally starts singing, I am in for a surprise. He is really good!

_“Take me down to my boat on the river_   
_I need to go down, I need to come down_   
_Take me back to my boat on the river_   
_And I won't cry out any more_   
_Time stands still as I gaze In her waters_   
_She eases me down, touching me gently_   
_With the waters that flow past my boat on the river_   
_So I won't cry out any more_

_Oh the river is deep_   
_The river it touches my life like the waves on the sand_   
_And all roads lead to Tranquillity Base_   
_Where the frown on my face disappears_   
_Take me back to my boat on the river_   
_And I won't cry out any more_

_Oh the river is wide_   
_The river it touches my life like the waves on the sand_   
_And all roads lead to Tranquillity Base_   
_Where the frown on my face disappears_   
_Take me back to my boat on the river_   
_And I won't cry out any more_   
_And I won't cry out any more_   
_And I won't cry out any more”_

When the last notes die away, his head spins around. There is a great weariness in his eyes.

“I did not mean to wake you,” Orson apologizes and shifts into another sitting position. “But when I saw this guitar case sticking out of one of the moving crates, I... I could not resist.”

I step closer to the sofa. “It belonged to my husband.”

His face falls apart completely. “I am so sorry, Ina. The Emperor briefed me about him.”

“The past is the past,” I consider, willing myself not to cry in front of him.

“During the Clone Wars the Separatists also came for an old school chum of mine. Galen Erso.” He moves a hand over his eyes, as if reliving an unpleasant memory. “The things they wanted to do to Lyra, his wife. And little Jyn, their darling daughter. If I had not saved them....”

Tenderly, he puts the guitar back into its case. “You always encouraged me to learn an instrument, remember?”

I nod.

“When you were off to your university studies on Alderaan, I got myself a classical guitar.”

“You were always very talented. In many ways.”

We exchange a forlorn look.

“My old man never shared your optimistic view about me. Especially when I was kicked out of the Futures program. And you and your foster mother had fought so hard to get me to Brentaal.”

“Do you still play?” I ask softly, trying to stir the conversation away from his family.

He shakes his head. “When my parents finally split up and my mother moved back to Lexrul, music did not help me as much as it used to. Around that time I had formed my own band: _'Lost River'_. Silly name, isn't it?”

I shake my head. “No, it's not. It's beautiful and you know that.”

He sighs and, once more, his mouth curls into a faint smile when his glance meets mine. When he starts speaking again, the smile fades away. “After a failed gig in Sativran City, I started to take death sticks. The band broke up, artistic differences I suppose. I became a regular at burlesque clubs and shady cantinas.”

“You could have contacted me at any time, Orson!”

“No, it was my life and only I could change it, as I did.” He speaks with difficulty now, controlling something so powerful that his hands shake with the effort. “When the Naboo Crisis took place, I enlisted in the army. I wanted to take revenge for your beautiful home world.”

I never should have told him where I hail from originally. Never!

“It gave me a totally new view on life and my part inside our society,” he moves on. “I have been clean since then, retrieved my self esteem. Even got the grades I needed for returning to Benthaal and continue my studies there.”

I cannot share his joy, his pride. For his salvation from an unhealthy life style came with a very high price. He chose to serve the army and, even worse, my uncle.

********************************************************************

I wait until breakfast. Then I drop the bomb. Orson did not deny me the truth, so I will not spare him the facts either. “Did Sheev already reveal to you that he is a Sith lord and has knowledge of unnatural energy sources?”

“Really?” He picks up his knife and swings it through the air playfully. “Light sabres are made out of kyper crystals, right? If the Emperor happens to have particular knowledge about this subject, it will come in handy.”

“Are you not at least concerned that an old enemy of the Republic is back, Orson?” I interrupt his musing with the strictest voice I can muster.

“There is no Republic any more,” he clips back. Then he adds much more friendly, “Listen, Palpatine was wise to end all the chaos and corruption around him in one clean go. I admire him for that. He is a real cluey guy.”

“He is the chaos, the corruption!” I yelp. “He was the one who started everything more than thirteen years ago.”

His gaze is fastened on my throat, where my pulse is going at a frantic rate. “The Emperor sure is a genius, but to make him responsible for the Separatists and their deeds...”

“He was the one who planted the bad seed.” I can hardly see anything through my veil of tears. “Do not underestimate the power of the dark side!”

“Even if he started everything, it was for the better,” he figures. “The galaxy is a much safer place for its citizens now.”

I stare at him with an expression of complete dumbfoundedness. “You cannot be serious!”

“Ina!” He reaches out for my hands that are clawed into the table cloth. “The Republic Army gave me a sense of belonging, of camaraderie. It brought order back into my life. Now I serve the New Galactic Empire and the man who made it possible.”

I blink and sniff. Words are stuck inside my throat, useless words. For I cannot change his mind.

After a while of silence, Orson squeezes the fingers of my good hand. “I know you do not approve of my career, but I knew all along that you would not.” His lips curve in a smile. “But that is okay with me. Look, the Emperor personally asked me to see you. The way he made his request was that of a family member. Of a man being worried for the safety of a beloved one.”

I bite my lip.

“I understand his worries.”

********************************************************************

Having grown up under the mighty shadow of Grandfather Cosinga I know a lot about survival in the most dire circumstances. Old reflexes kick in to stop me from turning mad. I can be the greatest pretender there is.

Since I live in the Westhills, Orson and I have a long walk alongside the Barchetta River. We pass several orchards that grow jogan fruits. Nerds graze peacefully on their pastures. If it would not be for the colour of the sky and the spine trees, we could as well be back on Chandrila. Or even in the Lake District of Naboo.

In the evening Orson requests to play more board games with me. He is anxious and shy, aware that he has overstepped his limits. I get treated like a breakable egg shell. He let's me win at _'Scrabble'_ , at _'Phase 10'_ and at _'Battleship'_.

When I go to bed, I feel like a sleep walker in a bad dream.

My uncle has turned me into a hostage of his Empire. How many high ranked officers will be shoved into my face from now on? Will each of them have a connection to me? Just to remind me of my failure as a babysitter, a kindergarten teacher or a friend?

********************************************************************

Orson announces to leave the next day right after lunch. Before that he makes sure that a military doctor of his staff checks on me. My hurt wrist gets wrapped up in a bacta bandage.

“I will not leave men behind to guard you,” he confides in me when we are alone in the cottage again. “This would be a great violation of your privacy, Ina.”

His sapphire eyes are a calm sea. In his Imperial uniform with its white cape he looks like a totally different person.

I turn away from him. “You know, you and Sheev make me feel like a three year old girl that cannot judge the consequences of her own actions. Leave alone to mange her social relationships.”

He steps behind me and places a hand on my shoulder. “Ina, you fail to see the blessing of your situation. You are spared an existence at the Imperial court. Here on Lothal you will live in a small, manageable community. You can even work in a profession that you love. The Emperor has mercy on you.”

My mouth drops. “Be glad that nobody ever tried to micromanage your life this despicable way, Orson!”

“I can understand that you feel angry, mistreated even. But Palpatine is very wise and good leader. He cares about his people. We will finally have peace and order.”

“Keep telling yourself that!” I rant. “His Sith Empire will not even last a quarter of a century. Not after all that he has pulled. He went too far. The Force will bring itself back into balance. It always does.”

His other hand comes down on my shaking shoulders, squeezing my shoulder blades softly. “This new order is a blessing for us all. The Jedi traitors are erased. All will be well soon.”

“You are betting on the wrong pod racer here,” I slur.

“I am not your enemy,” he swears under his breath and crushes me against him. “I never could be.”

I bite my lip and go limb.

“Ina, look at me!” Though his tone is gentle, there is no mistaking the command in his voice. “I am here to help you.”

I turn my chin ans peek up at Orson from beneath my lashes. Power emanates from him, sheer determination. His lips are set in a firm line.

There are a million words that swirl though my mind, but they won't come. He does not deserve my bitterness.

He visibly inhales and exhales through his nose, before he says, “I know you could not care less right now, but I will be back soon.”

My new prison ward, it could be worse. Sheev could have send one of his Red Guards. Vede Kennede for example.

Orson stares at me for a long silent moment, before saying, “Can you at least walk me to the door and see me out?”

My brows furrow. I just made a decision. “Not before you get a present.”

“A present?” he repeats uncertain.

“My husband's guitar. I want you to have it.”

All the blood drains out of his face. “But...”

“Do not but me, Orson Krennic!” My vision is obscured by the sheen of tears that threaten. “You will take that guitar. And I do not care what your military rule book has to say about it. Or your superiors. If there is no place for music and song lyrics in that Empire of yours...”

He plunges forward and pulls me into his arms, silencing my rant before any swear words can leave my mouth. Kisses cover my hair line. “I will accept your present only when you do not take back your friendship.”

“M..more blackmail?” I hiccup.

********************************************************************

After Orson is gone I bar myself inside my cottage for the very first time. I do not even open the door for Old Jho. When the Ithorian calls out to me, I crawl into my wardrobe and close the door behind me.

The visit of my former ward has made one thing clear to me.

The New Galactic Empire does not consist out of a robot army. It consists out of people, who have a past and feelings. To distinguish right from wrong will get more and more difficult in the years to come.

“Sheev, you are a cruel, old monster,” I sniff.

After a couple of hours a strange noise startles me. There is somebody in the bath-room and it is not a human being.

Taking a heart I leave the wardrobe and steal into the kitchen to get a knife.

Utterly fearless I yank the door open.

“Miaow?” asks a furry life form.

A Loth-Cat sits on my toilet seat and elegantly cleans itself.

“I named her Tasia. After one of the Naboo moons,” Lor San Tekka speaks through the still open bath room window. “We met last night, when I sneaked back into my own home. Since you were engaged, I invited her instead.”

Hiding my face in one of my palms, I drop the knife. “Why are you doing this?”

Lor San Tekka smiles at me. “When that Imperial Officer walked out of your cottage with a guitar case, he did not leave immediately. Instead, he leaned his brow against the closed entrance door, clinging to the boxed in instrument. He looked not overly happy. I figured if you feel as shattered as he does, you need nice company from now on.”

I crouch down, hugging myself. “A boy I used to know so well has turned into a puppet of my uncle.”

“He is not the only one, Nagina. There are so many out there. His performance as Supreme Chancellor was astonishingly good. It was a master piece, really.”  
Sadness grips me and I know it shows in my expression. “I should have stopped this!”

“No!” Lor San Tekka calls out. “It was not in your power.”

I nod in defiance, a roar in my ears.

“You should stop blaming yourself!” he begs. “For your uncle's choices. For the choices of that Imperial officer. Their choices have nothing to do with you.”

The Loth-Cat presses herself against me and starts walking around my body in circles. Her tail strokes me endearingly. In her wake she starts purring, a hypnotic noise with many hidden demands.

With no fuzz she allows me to lift her up and press her against my chest.

“Please unlock the front door now! We better talk in your living-room. I have much to say to you and little time.”

Lor San Tekka vanishes from the window.

********************************************************************

I close my eyes, fighting for control. When I think that I am just about to manage my feelings, I dare to open my front door.

“Long time no see,” Lor San Tekka jokes. His excitement is written all over his face. I take it as a good sign as I gesture him inside.

It is then that I notice that he carries a bag pack with him. Its filled with bulky objects. “More presents?” I wonder and leave the door wide open, my right hand resting on the door handle.

All his relaxation is gone within just one heart beat. “Why do you always have to come to the point so quickly?” he complains. “I first wanted to talk about us before showing you...”

I walk behind him and touch the nerf leather that is stretched to breaking point. There are tiny echoes in the Force, like rain water hitting the surface of a lake. “Oh!” I get out and press one hand against my mouth. The air whooshes from my lungs.

Lor San Tekka is decent enough not to deny me the full truth. “Jedi holocrons, yes. And other teaching materials. I saved it from the burning Jedi temple. Actually, I told you about it quite recently.”

I hang my head, remembering. The conclusion is bleak. “And you figured that the only save place in this galaxy is my home.” I stare at my plush slippers. “Because I am _his_ niece. _He_ would never have this place searched and even if _he_ did, I would walk away free and unharmed.”

“Unharmed,” he whispers. “The harm is already done, Ina.”

How I end up in his arms with his lips pressed on mine I do not know. There is not enough time to wonder about that.

Lor San Tekka tastes of root tea. A smell of grass and autumn wind surrounds him like a cloak. The feeling of his fingertips along my spine makes me shiver with an arousal that I have not felt in a very long time. I cherish his touch, his closeness. He is a great kisser, leisurely and passionate alike. I see stars, no actually I see exploding suns.

It is the polite coughing of Old Jho that brings us both back to order. “We better get inside!” the Ithorian suggests, standing in my door frame.

With a pang of sorrow I wind out of my new lover's arms.

“There is time for more later,” Lor promises.

I gaze at the huge cake that Old Jho carries with him. It is a Jogan fruit cake. “You have a belated house warming party, right?” he says and closes the door behind him. “The Empire can not criticise you for neighbours coming over occasionally, right?”

Pondering on that for some heart beats I shake my head. “Orson would hate to cage me in any form, no matter how paranoid he is about security measures.”

“What rank does he possess within the newly formed Imperial Army?”

“I have no clue,” I must confess. “When it comes to army business, I am completely lost. But I believe Orson to be part of the Advanced Weapons Research Division. My uncle had it founded right after the Battle of Geonosis. I am sure his pet project survived the fall of the Republic. He has this unhealthy obsession with the Celestrials and their mighty weapons.”

“I wish that my friend Olee Starstone would be around,” sighs Lor San Tekka. “She was once a padawan of of Chief Librarian Jocasta Nu.”

“Which makes her an expert of Jedi history and Jedi lore, right?” I can feel myself blush a little as his blue gaze rests on me.

“Olee also has a large knowledge of the Sith and taught me quite a lot about them the past years. She would know what your uncle has in stock for us.”

I swallow quietly.

The Sith.

The past decades I had felt very lonely. Now it seems I have found a person who is as knowledgeable as I am. Who knows what harm a single Sith lord can do to the galaxy. The problem is worse when there is an apprentice. Mauly was always so efficient, a silent scythe for my uncle. His victims had fallen like ripe wheat.

“The cake is served,” announces Old Jho proudly. “Shall we, Nagina?”

Lor offers me his arm and I gladly take it, because it helps nobody if I dwell on the past too much.

Master Jinn killed Mauly on Naboo more than thirteen years ago and there is not anything that I could have done against it. My childhood pal knew of the dangers that would await him in my uncle's service. He chose the dark side anyway, because he believes in the Sith religion. In it's glory.

 

**Translation from the Chandrilan rural dialect into Basic:**  
_cluey_ = wise, clever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources: An altered version of the prayer “All above” by John Birch  
> The lyrics of “Boat on the river” by Styx  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia 
> 
> Inspirational song for this chapter: “Boat on the river” by Styx


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16:**

It is just a few steps to my living-room table, but I enjoy this new familiarity with Lor San Tekka. His old fashioned gallantry thrills me. It has been a while a man has treated me this way. Orson and Xizor are just friends, but I feel that the Force has more in stock for me today.

As I gaze at the table, it becomes clear to me that Old Jho has taken the opportunity to find a kitchen knife and a cake lifter in the meantime. Being a cantina owner, he has also laid the table for three persons. My steaming tea pot has left the kitchen as well.

“Thank you!” I say, blushing.

“Oh we have to thank you, our kind hostess,” the Ithorian replies with a reverent bow. “You remind us that the values of the old Republic are not dead yet. That they will prevail.”

I want to protest. Want to tell both men that I am not special, but this is not what they want to hear lightly. They need hope. I should not let them down. This is not a time for pious prayers. Well planned actions need to acted out.

Our mutual agreement comes right after the first piece of jogan fruit cake. We vow to fight the Empire in any subtle way that we can. It is civil disobedience, an act of rebellion even, but we owe it to all the dead of Order 66. We owe it to the death roll of the Clone Wars. To all that is good and just.

Lor will try to gather Jedi artefacts all over the galaxy.

Old Jho will keep his eyes and ears wide open for unusual newcomers to Lothal. If there are Jedi among them, for we do not believe all of them to have been extinguished, he will help them to settle down.

And I will serve as the interface between both men: a treasure chest of the knowledge of the Jedi order and a safe place for hunted Jedi. In the meantime, I will continue to teach the youngest citizens of the Empire.

I am fully aware of why my uncle has been looking for a hard-to-fill teaching vacancy in the Outer Rim Territories. And why exactly he chose only a playgroup. He cannot, will not trust me in dealing with older children.

I have this nasty habit of going beyond the conventional curriculum in order to build a more relevant, engaging experience. This comes from being a Naboo, I think. We are known to be involved in policy discussions with legislators, governors, and mayors from kindergarten days on.

********************************************************************

When Old Jho leaves at nightfall, Lor and I gaze at each other in silence. I do not wish us to be star-crossed lovers, the stuff that legends are made of. But if we both settle down together on Lothal and just concentrate on us as a couple, then there will be no happily ever after for this galaxy.

“Doubts because of Barin?” His voice is solicitous as he asks this. His hand is still at the door handle.

I shake my head. “My husband cherished my happiness above all. He would sanction our union.”

“Do you fear your uncle's reaction then?” he gives to consider and starts walking towards me at a slow pace.

“He is not the danger here. His new Empire is. It is like a monster, having been brought to life in some unnatural way. At some point he will lose control over it. All emperors do so sooner or later. It is a territory too large to rule, containing too many citizens. It will be his demise and might even outlive him.”

His hands slip around me, stroking my back while pressing me closer. “The system has not caught up with us yet, Nagina.”

My mouth gapes open at the understatement, and then I cannot help myself. I start laughing. It sounds bitter, but not for very long.

Lor presses little kisses over and over against me. I suppress a groan. He teases me with his tongue in a way that breaks my brain a little.

“As the Force wills it, we might have a couple of years before we get busted in one way or another,” he says with a throaty voice while he leads me towards the bedroom.

********************************************************************

I wake up in the middle of the night. Not only am I tangled in my sheets, but a warm male body frames mine. My pulse flutters as I recognize who encloses me in a cocoon of safety.

Smiling, I snuggle closer to Lor. He grunts happily in his sleep, his chest heaving against my spine.

I wish that I could stay on, but my bladder teases me too badly. “Toilet!” I whisper with a certain urgency.

With a sigh, my new lover eases his grip on my hips and lets go of me. I struggle out of bed and grab my morning robe. Quickly, I wrap it around me and hurry off to follow the call of nature.

Clothing lies around in the hallway, like clues from a scavenger hunt. My bra, Lor's pants.

Blushing, I reach the bathroom and bar the door behind me, putting on some light.

When I gaze around sleepily from the toilet seat, I can see that Orson has left his razors and shaving foam behind. Right there underneath my bathroom mirror. Cursing I jump up, stuff the items into my bathroom cabinet and sink down again to finish my business.

Even as a small boy, Orson had been awfully possessive towards me at times. I know where this notion comes from, but it is unnerving now that he is a fully grown man.

********************************************************************

Not much later I tiptoe past the bedroom door and sneak into the living-room instead.

I find it dangerous to have the home altar near my bed. Too much energy pulses from it. So I erected it opposite the entrance door on a side board.

My statue of Shiraya is the size of my palm. I do not need her to be big and pompous. I have always preferred to worship her in a more private setting with nobody else around.

Smiling, I ignite the candles around her feet. Then I touch the severed heads of Orson's Gladioli that float in a large bowl of water. Not willing to wake up Lor, I start singing a chant to the moon goddess as softly as possible.

_“The moon she dances_   
_Like the waves_   
_Like the waves_   
_On the shore_   
_Making circles_   
_Making circles_   
_Like the waves on the shore”_

After some time, I can feel Sheev listening to me through the Force. Our usual link is there, unbroken from all that has occurred since I left Coruscant. But he does not say anything. It is like praying to one of the effigies of our common forefathers.

I open all my mental gates, putting all my feelings on display.

“What you have done is the most horrible thing imaginable. A genocide so brutal and cruel that I doubt the galaxy will ever recover. So many lives lost. Even young Force-sensitive children slain by you in the Jedi temple. And now this breaking of images, an iconoclastic riot that knows no shame. Beware, Sheev! This will fall back on you one fine day! You are not a god. A human woman bore you into this universe. You are a mortal being still. No matter what arcane Sith powers you have discovered. More humbleness would become you.”

He cuts off the link.

I hang my head.

My uncle will fall at one point. Here and there indignation will rise. First just a few voices will call out for justice. Some of them will be extinguished like candle flames. But there will come a point where there will be too many flames at the same time. Some of them will unite, become a greater trouble spot. In the end he will face a giant fire. There will be no hiding, no turning away from it.

A certain Loth-cat interrupts my pondering as she tickles me with her tail to get my full attention. “Miaow?”

I chuckle and pick her up. She starts purring.

“Let us check for some raw meat for you, shall we?” I suggest.

“Miaow!” she answers, some satisfaction swinging in her feline voice.

“I bet there is something in the fridge for you, Tasia. Nerf steak.”

“Miaow,” she announces eagerly.

********************************************************************

We spend another day in bed together, Lor and I. With great care, we discover each other in new ways.

There is also plenty of pillow talk. The hours rush by as we share the stories of our lives. But then it is time for him to leave. For Coruscant.

Lor strokes my left cheek in adoration. “If your uncle has ordered the Jedi temple to be torn down, I know the secret locations of other temples. Master Jinn shared those with me long ago.”

That name rings a bell deep inside me. A mourning bell. “Master Jinn? You knew him? The saviour of Naboo?”

“Of course,” Lor beams and starts telling me how they came to meet in the first place.

“Qui-Gon never wanted to be a saviour or a hero,” he ends his story. “He always did what he thought to be right.”

“Like you,” I challenge him.

“Not all of us can be Jedi knights,” he sighs. “As much as I admired them as a child on Jedha, I did not possess any of their powers. But I did not mind that. I felt that the Force had a different vocation for me. Now is my time to help the broken Jedi order. Your uncle and his minions would never expect somebody like me to hide Jedi treasures from them.”

But I know that Sheev will suspect me of piling up those treasures sooner or later. I may get away with it, though. In his youth he studied both aspects of the Force, the light and the dark. Even though his choice was made already. He respects the things I stand for.

********************************************************************

My lips are still sore from kissing, when I rush into my garden the next morning. I want to pull up some weeds. While keeping my hands busy, I hope to put my mind at ease.

At times I believe that I live inside a soap bubble, in some kind of parallel universe. One that my uncle has created just for me. To keep me safe, to stop me from having a real influence on people. No matter how strongly I oppose his rule, my rebellion goes unpunished.

I feel like the Lady of Shalott, the tragic heroine in one of my beloved poems.

While kneeling in my patch of curly kale, checking for slugs, I quote some of the poem's lines:

_“She knows not what the curse may be,_   
_And so she weaveth steadily,_   
_And little other care hath she,_   
_The Lady of Shalott.”_

The mischievous North wind carries my words straight to an unannounced visitor.

“Indeed, little other care you have, child. Besides, you have a very small garden. But that is your own fault.”

I cringe inwardly and lean in deeper towards the plants.

Since their kindergarten days, Sate Pestage has been part of Sheev's life. It is not true friendship that binds them, though. Every villain needs a sidekick, a mere secretary who keeps the record straight.

“He would have given you a huge castle to live in. With a dozen gardens at your disposal. And an army of gardeners to please you.”

Inhaling deeply, I rise to meet my godfather, who glares at me with a sour face.

“You could live the life of an Imperial princess,” Sate lectures on. “But like your unfortunate mother, you chose dirt and never-ending service. Just look at you! This outfit brings shame on House Palpatine.”

To speak up against him is pointless. He will not hear me out until he has finished his well prepared monologue.

While Sate tuts at me, I walk towards him.

“You are allowed to give me a hug anyway. I suppose you cannot help being a peasant girl, after all. You deserve my pity and not my scorn.”

Dutifully, I exchange the traditional Naboo greeting with Sate. By a strange twist of fate, he is my godfather. I owe him respect to a certain limit.

His stench makes me uncomfortable. While my uncle just underlines his male-hood with two single drops of aftershave and Xizor uses some to bedazzle females, Sate surrounds himself in it like a cloud. His depravity shines through anyway.

Laboriously, he sets me free again. “Before you ask, child, he does not send me. I came to have a word with you.”

“Did I already step out of line?” I inquire.

“You never fitted into the rule book.” He twitches his long nose. “At times I even feared your existence in his life would prevent the return of the Sith.”

“Congratulations on the purge of the Jedi,” I say, full of bitterness. “Especially on killing thousands of younglings and their teachers inside the temple.”

“Oh well, thank you,” he beams, failing to notice my acid irony.

Sate is a groupie of the Sith order. He adores their dark deeds, keeps a lot of ancient history records on them. For my uncle, he has erected a little shrine in his home.

“But now enough of the pleasantries, you and I have to talk.”

****************************************************************

Sate leads the way inside the house as though he owns the place. Stiffly he sits down at my living-room table, gesturing for me to sit down next to him. I remain standing.

“Once a rebel, always a rebel,” he bites out. “Very well. Keep your little pride and hold onto it while you can.”

“More changes and cutbacks on my life?” I ask, a strange feeling of calmness spreading in my veins.

“I want you to testify against Senator Organa,” he demands.

“You want to cut down an innocent man?” I exclaim. “Go ahead, but do it without me. I will not be your chief witness in any court case.”

“I do not do court cases,” my godfather corrects me.

“A dereliction that will fall back on you sooner or later,” I warn him.

“The Delegation of 2,000 betrayed your uncle, Nagina!” His eyes blaze in anger. “It is your duty to speak up for him.”

“Sheev knows that I do not stand for his politics.”

“But obviously for his dire enemies,” he accuses me.

“Organa is not a Jedi Knight, as far as I remember. Besides, I thought all Jedi were exterminated by Order 66?” I give for consideration. “Or are they not?”

Sate does not answer my question. Cunning as he is, he stirs around it. “You do underestimate his power.”

“Let us call him via holonet and check his opinion,” I suggest. “On me, on my beliefs.”

He is shocked. “Your uncle is very busy with a new project of his.”

“Before that super weapon comes into power, I will have reached my sixtieth birthday. I am sure of it.” Laughing, I stride into the kitchen to set a kettle with tea water. “Not even Sheev can harness the power of the Celestials so easily. Or force labourers to do their work quicker.”

“Be glad that Krennic is your guardian.” His voice right behind me startles me so much that I almost drop the tea box. “If anybody else was in charge of you, child, your life might be a never ending stress and duress session.”

The need to speak up is greater than my sense of danger. “So you do admit that there is torture going on in that new empire you are helping to create. I thought you wanted to be better than the Separatists.”

He takes the tin box out of my hand and gazes down at me. His nose seems larger than ever as he does. “I wonder what made old Cosinga Palpatine keep you alive?” he sneers. “Perhaps he liked having a naughty pup in his litter after all. For the fun of training it.”

I turn crimson, but I do not snap back this time. Even Sate does not know what happened to my grandfather and why. Sheev never trusted him with that. Concealing my hurt, I put the water kettle on. “Will you stay for tea?”

He shakes his head. “I am sick of country life already and do not wish to get anything into my system that is not up to Coruscant standards.”

I stand as though frozen while Sate kisses me good-bye.

“Take care, Nagina! For if anything should ever happen to you, your uncle would turn this planet into a lifeless rock.”

“Then I better try not to die before Sheev does,” I answer automatically. “And to live happily ever after for the sake of Lothal.”

********************************************************************

The visit of my godfather puts me in a strange mood. Sheev's empire is barely a week old and decent men like Bail are already on display. His honesty and commitment to justice will get the Alderaniaan senator killed one fine day. Like Lor he will never betray the legacy of the Jedi, let alone surrender to tyranny. If I want to honour what they are both fighting for, I must be brave. Cunning and deceptive, even. Depression is a luxury I cannot afford.

I take a deep breath, letting it go slowly like in Yoga practice.

Emotions can create tension in muscles, stiffness and blockages to the flow of prana, the vital force. Awareness of one's own breath helps to manage emotional disturbances. It also makes energy flow like a river towards the sea.

I pull my knees to my chest, closing my eyes.

Constant dripping will wear away a stone. My uncle is made out of stone. He is like a giant meteor that has crashed down on all of us, even though he tries to be soft and gentle with me still. His decisions weigh heavily on me anyway.

It is about time for the new kindergarten year to start around here. I need to busy myself with pre-school education. Lonely autumn nights are not good for me.

Gazing out the living-room window, I decide to leave the sofa and go to bed early, leaving out dinner. But several minutes later, I end up lying on the coverlet with my lover's backpack turned upside down in front of me.

Leisurely, I skim through the secured Jedi teaching material from Coruscant.

Most things are useless to me. I have too much respect to activate a light sabre, let alone mess around with it. As for the holocrons, they are unlikely to open up for me.

I spot an ancient looking scroll. It is real papyrus. With great reverence I unroll the text. It is written in the High Galactic alphabet:

_“I am a Jedi:_   
_I accept the things I cannot change;_   
_I have courage to change the things I can;_   
_I have wisdom to know the difference._   
_I am a Jedi:_   
_I live in the present;_   
_I enjoy one moment at a time;_   
_I accept hardships as a pathway to peace;_   
_I take this world as it is, not as I would have it;_   
_I am a Jedi:_   
_I trust The Force;_   
_In doing so things become right;_   
_In doing so I am content;_   
_Forever in our everlasting life._   
_You are a Jedi._   
_May The Force be with you, always.”_

I run the fingers of my left hand through my hair. My heart pounds so hard that my finger tips tremble.

Sheev will not, cannot win this. The wisdom of the Jedi will live on in the hearts of people like Lor. The light side of the Force will prevail.

The remains of the Jedi religion need me like kindergarten wards. There are still options left to fight for the light side of the Force. Violence is not my personal choice. There are more subtle ways to defy my uncle. I can do so by simply being what Lor needs me to be. A safe harbour. His own house of healing.

I close the scroll again.

For aeons, Jedi Knights had been more than warriors with mystical powers. In their ranks had also been philosophers, scientists, engineers, physicians, diplomats and teachers like me. It will be a tedious job for my uncle to seek out every member of that ancient monastic organization. If he has an apprentice by now, he might let him do all the dirty work.

I remember all the things Sheev had put poor Mauly through. He had turned the sweet Zabrak boy into a one man army, a ruthless killing machine.

Fool that I was back then, I had always wanted for Mauly to magically develop the capacity for empathy. It had not worked out the way that I wanted. My uncle had been very displeased when he caught him kissing me tenderly once. I had not suffered any consequences for that forbidden kiss, but he had made me watch while he punished my suitor. It had been the eve of my fourteenth birthday.

“Oh Sheev, you give love a bad name,” I murmur.

Throughout my life my uncle has taught me that the dark side is a mistress who demands the free passion, action, and emotion of her worshippers all for herself. She never shares a person with anybody else.

The fatal thing is that Sheev believes himself to have the upper hand in this uneven relationship. His arrogance will be his undoing in one way or another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> A Wiccan chant  
> An extract from the poem “The Lady of Shalott” by the British poet Alfred Lord Tennyson (1832)  
> Prayer by Michael James Kitchen, his alternative form is based on the “Serenity Prayer” by Reinhold Niebuhr  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Enzyklopedia 
> 
>  
> 
> Inspirational song for this chapter:  
> the score “Tarawa” from the movie “Snow falling on cedars”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still in working modus!!!

**Chapter 17:**

As I store the Jedi items among my most precious belongings, I happen to find a long cherished book of mine. A childhood classic that my uncle used to read to me.

I feel a thrill run through my veins, compelling and undeniable. It makes me search the yellowish pages for the lines that I need to see right now.

_“I have forgotten that men cannot see Unicorns. If men no longer know what they're looking at, there may well be other unicorns in the world yet – unknown – and glad of it.”_

I press the book against my chest.

If the last of the Jedi want a chance of survival they will need to keep a low profile. They will have to be like unicorns, hiding in plain sight. Like Sheev and his Sith master Darth Plagueis did for many decades.

In order to win a game against a powerful enemy, one sometimes needs to adopt parts of his rulebook.

The trouble with Sheev is that his rulebook is constantly changing. His cruelty knows no bounds, nor does his need for revenge.

I remember what Lor told me about the slain Jedi padawans and younglings on the temple premises. Their bodies had burns that could only have been caused by a light sabre.

“What will you do when the last Jedi is in the dust before you, dying away?” I ask aloud. “Who will be your next group of victims then? The Gungans? The Wookies? The Twi'lek race?”

There is radio silence, but my uncle is out there. I can feel him. And I am sure that it is vice versa for him. It will always be thus. But at present he is not willing to establish another mental contact.

I get up from the mattress and walk up to my wardrobe.

After some rummaging, I choose a nightgown with long sleeves in Tyrian purple. That colour is also known as Imperial dye, Imperial red. It seems fitting. Not only because of my uncle. It does not easily fade, but becomes brighter with weathering and sunlight instead.

I will not fade on Lothal. This much I owe the rest of the galaxy.

********************************************************************

Not much later, I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing my hair. Here and there I spot tell-tale wisps of grey. I wish it were just like a white-cap, but I am not a wave crest. Otherwise I would drown Sheev and myself in my sorrow.

“You can do better than this, Nagina!” I reprimand myself. “Much better.”

My uncle needs a worthy adversary for his crying game. I will not be his victim.

I think of the Solleu River as it rushes towards the Virdugo waterfall. My movements need to have a definite path, albeit an often unexpected one. I have to become like water.

The ancient chant comes to my lips automatically.

_“Born of water_  
_Cleansing, powerful_  
_Healing, changing I am.”_

As I repeat the words over and over again, my hair brush rhythmically makes its journey.

Suddenly, I hear a juddering intake of breath behind me.

Through the mirror I stare at the intruder. Or better to say I stare right at the mouth of his heavy blaster pistol.

“Orson!” I yelp.

His face is a mask of pain and sadness. I can hear the raggedness of his breathing. “Ina!” he whispers as he turns me around to face him directly. His eyes burn with the clear, deep blue that exists in the heart of candle flames.

“I am sorry,” I blurt out, thinking that this is about Lor.

His face is a ghastly white, the eyes are red-rimmed.

“I am sorry,” I repeat, for I have nothing else to offer.

“Don't!” His voice is hoarse with shock, and holds a note halfway between disbelief and pleading. “I was the one failing you.”

I do not quite get his logic, but remaining silent is the best idea. He seems to be in a talkative mood. I should just listen.

The blaster clatters on the floor as Orson engulfs me in a rib cracking hug. He has the strength of an adult Wookie male, even though his demeanour is more that of a rancor.

“You are not dead,” he says in a voice scarcely audible.

This is definitely not about my love life or me hiding Jedi artefacts in my home.

He pulls a fold of his white cloak around me and draws me even closer to him.

“I will not lose you again,” Orson says, soft against my ear. “I swear that I will not.”

There is a lonely quality to his voice that I have to respond to. He needs comfort and he needs it badly. “It seems that I am not going anywhere right now,” I joke, forcing cheerfulness into my voice. “You’re basically clinging to me like in the old days. Please do not hop on my arm!”

His embrace tightens to an uncomfortable level. “If it were up to me, I would keep you safe somewhere else. Lothal is too far away from my current duties. It took me hours to get here.”

I should not ask him what those duties are. Or where exactly. The less I know, the better.

Orson clears his throat and tugs at his collar. “Sate Pestage is a dangerous man.” He swallows hard. So hard that I can actually feel the tremor pass through him. “People die all around him like flies...”

I stand on tiptoe, kissing him lightly on the cheek. “My godfather is unpredictable and volatile, true. But he knows better than to enrage Sheev. Sate would not dare to harm a single hair on my head. Besides, I am not a fly.”

He gives a frown, then rolls his eyes. “The briefing about your case file should have been more thorough. A godfather. Fancy that!”

I shrug. “Trust my uncle to be sloppy now and again. He cannot be a genius all the time. When it comes to handling me, he can be incredibly stupid.” I pause, carefully choosing my next words to sidetrack him from Lor. “What is my code name?”

It is a question too far, but I do not care.

A narrow, considering look pierces me.

“You owe me an answer, Orson Callan Krennic,” I state, trying to look regal. “I am the niece of your emperor.”

His first impulse is to protest, but then he nods an uncharacteristic acquiescence. _“Black Rampion,”_ he voices.

I press my lips together.

This is not a random choice by Sheev. It is a curtsy towards my mother, Mandré, his half-sister. When she was pregnant with me, she felt the irresistible urge to eat black rampions one fine afternoon. Being a kitchen servant of House Palpatine, she rushed into the herb garden to look for the precious plant. He caught her doing so.

“You are crying,” Orson worries, while I rest my head on his shoulder.

********************************************************************

Much later on, I watch my unexpected guest work down two bowls of cabbage soup. His tastes are less refined than those of Sheev and many of his court cringers.

“Want some more?” I ask, smiling at him.

Home-made food still seems to be his favourite. Once a farm boy, always a farm boy.

Blushing, Orson gazes up. “I hope that I do not devour all your winter stocks in one go, Nagina.”

I giggle. “You mistake me for Rabbit and yourself for Winnie. And this is certainly not my collection of honey pots from the pantry.”

He blinks.

“Winnie the Pooh,” I offer.

That brings a shy smile on his lips. “The story about the Honey Tree,” he concludes.

It makes me glad that he remembers some of the books that I read to him.

I get up and reach out for the cruet, which contains jogan fruit juice. While I just have some sips, he has a third bowl.

Pleased, he cleans his mouth with his napkin. “Brilliant cooking, Ina!”

I should tell him that my foster mother sent twelve soup cans this morning. Lately I am lazy when it comes to cooking.

The miaow comes unexpected, even for me.

“Tasia, there you are!”

Beaming, I pick the Loth-cat up.

Until now her little Ladyship has been untraceable. I suppose even she felt that Sate is always bad news and waited for the situation to be somewhat comfortable. Besides, his aftershave really must have made her upset.

“Hullo, my beauty!” I praise her.

Tasia gives me slow, languid blinks while her tail curls around my left wrist. She acknowledges me by closing her eyes. In the feline world this is the sign of absolute trust.

“I was not briefed about you being a cat owner,” wonders Orson, and glares at the animal in puzzlement.

“I do not own her. With cats it is the other way around usually,” I laugh. “But if you really want to know...”

He narrows his eyes. “I insist.”

“My neighbour gave Tasia into my charge only yesterday.” My palms get sweaty. “She is away for a couple of weeks. To visit relatives.”

His husky laugh floats stirs through the air. “In the past you could tell me anything and I believed you. Such a simple gift, Ina. So rare and precious. Like a kyber crystal.” His lips tighten as his gaze reaches sub-zero temperatures. “Don't put on the raw prawn with me! Why do you protect a man you hardly know? Who is he?”

Tasia's eyes go wide, which tells me that she is in attack modus. Before my pet can claw off Orson's face, I hurry to the kitchen window and open it.

“Off with you!” I tell the animal and, ever so gently, set her down in the garden. “I will call you when Orson behaves reasonably again. Like a real person and not a heartless war machine.”

When I close the window again, Tasia protests loudly.

She is not the only one who feels treated unfairly by me.

“What have I done to deserve this?” complains Orson, his working class accent all of a sudden broader than ever. “I came here all the way from Geonosis, thinking you were dead already! That I had completely failed to protect you already.”

“Sorry,” I mumble.

“If only you were sorry, Ina. But you are not. Not really. It's the biggest load of bull larky I've ever heard.” He studies me for a few seconds. “Even your poor uncle, my commander-in-chief, gets his share. But that you dare to lie at me. Holy dooley!”

His fist comes smashing down on my kitchen table. Makes me jump.

“You are a dangerous person,” he sneers. “Always deflecting. A schemer really.”

“Oh, you mistake me for the other Palpatine.”

Orson rises and looks down on me, his arms crossed in front of him. “Whether you like it or not: I am in charge here. Therefore I will control everybody that sets foot over your threshold. Including that mysterious neighbour of yours.”

Tears gather in my eyes. “I hate you!”

“No, you don't!” He assures me, a sad smile on his lips. “That is what really breaks you apart.”

********************************************************************

I cannot sleep tonight. Tasia is in the garden, occasionally making wailing noises. And Orson has opened the bedroom door, camping with his bedlinen on the actual door sill.

“This is creepy!” I let him know after a while.

“I will not allow you to harm yourself!” he replies in a low voice.

“First you distrust my godfather and now your paranoia extends to me.” I get up, rolled into my coverlet, and waddle over to him. “Perhaps you have a death wish yourself.”

“I am an officer of the Imperial army,” he sighs tremulously. “Therefore I can assure you that I put my mission first.”

“You mean you put my life in higher regard than watching a certain super weapon being built?”

“Here you go again, digging in the dirt.” His disappointment and anger is almost corporeal. “You are worse than the Pointer my old man had.”

He still cannot say the word 'father' after all this time. Nor can he allow himself to name the dog he killed by accident.

His army experiences seem to have hardened him even more. I am facing a loaded gun in the truest sense of the word and I am worried. Not for my sake though.

“Let us have a walk,” I suggest.

“You should sleep, Ina.” His voice is very soft now, a pleading undertone swinging in it.

“Then sing me a song!” I ask.

“My guitar is a thousand light years away in an army locker.”

“You can surely sing without one.” I turn around and start walking to my bed again.

“Could it be that you are trying to crack me open, Ina?” he surmises. “That you are trying to find a vulnerable spot you can fill and apply more pressure to from the inside?”

I hit my pillow. “You already made it perfectly clear that I am your soft spot. That you adopted me as your older sister,” I huff. “Now sing, my angel of music!”

I can picture the scowl on his face.

Then it comes, a lullaby I used to sing for him:

_“By day give thanks_  
_By night beware_  
_Half the world in sweetness_  
_The other in fear_

_When the darkness takes you_  
_With her hand across your face_  
_Don't give in too quickly_  
_Find the thing she's erased_

_Find the line, find the shape_  
_Through the grain_  
_Find the outline, things will_  
_Tell you their name_

_The table. The guitar_  
_The empty glass_

_All will blend together when_  
_Daylight has passed_

_Find the line, find the shape_  
_Through the grain_  
_Find the outline, things will_  
_Tell you their name_

_Now I watch you falling into sleep_  
_Watch your fist curl against the sheet_  
_Watch your lips fall open and your eyes dim_  
_In blind faith_

_I would shelter you_  
_Keep you in light_  
_But I can only teach you_  
_Night vision_  
_Night vision_  
_Night vision”_

Orson stands at the end of my bed when he finishes the song. Even in the dark I can make out his outline.

“I can stand a lot, Ina. On a battle field, inside a packed conference room. But you constantly acting as my enemy is a bit much.”

“You insult me as a Naboo woman here,” I clip. “My love life is my matter alone. Ask my uncle if you want to know more about the traditions of our people.”

“A lover?” Orson asks, astonished. “All this fuzz is actually about you wanting to protect a lover?”

I inhale sharply, hoping that this answer is sufficient.

Orson's lungs expand in a long, deep breath. His blue eyes are bright with silent laughter. “You could have told me straight out that you had started to see somebody. Oh, Ina!” He sounds so happy for me that it squeezes my heart. “Well, if you insist, then I will not look further into the matter.”

I can hear his thoughts tumbling around in his head. “It is not Xizor, if you really want to know,” I offer. “I am not into Falleen...”

Orson almost makes me bounce off the bed when he comes down next to me and engulfs me in a hug. “So you are seeing a human.”

“He is definitely human,” I assure him, sad to see that my uncle's anti-alien policies have gotten to him, too.

He presses a good-night kiss on my brow. “Sleep tight, Ina! If you need anything, I will be in the living-room.”

“I know,” I yawn, tired after all this pretending and defending myself.

On his way out, Orson pauses in the doorway, but not to pick up his bed linen. “Can I... may I,... you know?”

“Should the occasion arise, I will introduce you,” I promise. “He travels a lot.”

I hear the rustling of cotton.

“Oh, Orson? My uncle can know about it,” I assure him, just for the test.

“There is no need, Ina!” Nothing but tenderness is in his voice now. I am talking to a civilian, not a high ranking officer any more. “As far as I am concerned, you can have a little secret or two.”

“How come?” I counter.

“Good night now! I will make breakfast for you when you wake up!”

When I place a hand over my eyes, I am still aware of his looming presence.

“I will take a couple of days off, by the way.”

Inside my head, I scream. This is the last thing that I wanted for us. The situation has turned from awkward to overbearing. “Can you combine guarding me with your duties on Geonosis?”

His expression becomes shuttered, his lips drawn into a tight line. “You never heard the name, Ina!” He exhales in a rush. “And you will forget about it!”

“Yes, Sir! Geonosis is not the planet I am looking for.”

“I mean it,” he growls, reluctantly suppressing a laugh.

 

**Translation from the Chandrilan rural dialect into Basic:**  
_Don't put on the raw prawn with me!_ = similar to _“Don't treat me like a fool!”_  
_bull larky_ = Total and complete nonsense; full of contradictions and completely ludicrous  
_Holy dooley!_ = an expression of surprise such as _“Oh my gosh!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> the song “Night vision” by Suzanne Vega  
> Quotes from the Fantasy book “The Last Unicorn” by Peter S. Beagle (1968)  
> One of the frequently paraphrased statements of German philosopher and economist Karl Marx (1818 – 1883)  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia 
> 
> Inspirational song for this chapter:  
> the score “Lost but won” for the movie "Rush" by the German composer Hans Zimmer


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still in writing modus!!!

**Chapter 18:**

Hearing voices in the middle of the night is never a good thing. Especially when one lives alone. Yet my ears pick up the scraps of a conversation going on somewhere in my cottage.

In suspense, I listen in to the dark.

The words seem to be coming from the bathroom.

My sleepy brain remembers that I have an overnight visitor.

I sit up, reaching out for my water glass on the night stand. Taking a long sip of water, I look at my digital clock. It is way after midnight.

To whom might Orson be talking at this hour? To my cat, who wants to claw his eyes out? Or is Lor back from Coruscant? Did both men bump into one another by chance?

I crawl out of bed, struggle into my morning robe and leave the bedroom without closing the door. This is an old house, with creaking floorboards and door hinges that can make even more treacherous noises.

On woollen socks I tiptoe through the small corridor.

“... vibing her out, she will either attack or flee,” I hear Orson say.

“Which was to be expected,” answers a voice that was once familiar and beloved to me. Now it belongs to a walking corpse. “Just leave her be, Orson!”

Sheev does not call him 'my friend' or 'my son', which proves that he really respects him. There is no deception going on between them, just brutal honesty.

With my heart almost in my mouth, I gaze through the key hole.

Orson sits on the closed toilet seat, most of his body bathed in blue light. With both hands, he holds onto a holoprojector device. “Leave her be? I start to doubt my loyalties in her company. She constantly tries to argue about the morality of my actions.”

Ugly cackling fills the bathroom, enough to make my toes curl.  My uncle seems to be in a joyful mood after all the recent killing of Jedi. “If she would not, I would be very surprised,” he comments. “She always discusses what is right and what is wrong. It is a kindergarten teacher thing.”

Blood rushes through my veins so loud that I am afraid that both men will hear me through the door.

“It is a dangerous faculty. Especially if she talks to the wrong people.” Orson's voice drops. “To someone who is less forgiving than you are, my Emperor.”

“That is why I need you as her protector.”

Orson looks up, his face hard. “I doubt that I am really the right man for this delicate mission. The chain of command has failed me already.”

“Sate has already been punished for acting on his own authority.” My uncle pauses, his mouth forming a dreadful smile. “Perhaps he meant well, but Organa is my problem.”

“A more acute problem is that Ina seems to have figured out about 'Project Celestial Power'. She dropped several hints that lead me to the conclusion...”

“She is precious to me!” Sheev interrupts him, his voice lashing out like a whip. Then it gets somewhat softer again, a forlorn note wavering in it. “Protect her from everything that threatens her, and especially from knowing too much!”

“I will do whatever you ask of me, my Emperor,” Orson replies with honest reverence.

“You will go on vacation with Nagina. Scarif would be a nice choice.”

“Scarif? But I am needed on Geonosis,” Orson protests.

“You will go to Scarif, because I said so.” There are dark currents in my uncle's voice. “Do not make me to repeat my request! Otherwise I will not back you against Tarkin any more. He already wonders why your constant insubordination and your drastic methods are always forgiven.”

“But Scarif, my Emperor? Truly...”

I tear the door open. “For now, I am happy on Lothal.”

Orson almost drops the holoprojector.

A true smile shows on Sheev's mummy face. “At least you have started talking to me in person again.”

“Because you force my hand!” I sniff.

“I did not force you to spy on Orson,” he corrects me. “You did that all by yourself! But I indeed had hoped and expected to talk to you tonight in one way or another.”

“You... are... obnoxious!” I get out, my cheeks on fire.

“Is this today's word on your special Word of the Day calendar?” my uncle muses. “Strange, mine was 'facetious'. Are you sure you bought the right one?”

He is making jokes at my expense. I can see his joy. It brightens his eyes, though they lie deep in his sockets.

“What else do you want to tell me?” he moves on. “But keep in mind that Orson can hear you as well. And he might be shocked at what ten years with a Corellian have done to your vocabulary.”

“Sithspit!” I bite out.

He leans forward in his leather chair, millions of light years away from me. “Hatred is a dark emotion and I would advise you not to nurse it in your tender chest, Nagina.”

I shiver violently, and then I let out words that Darth Sion spoke centuries ago. “I can feel you, my master, faint, weak. No longer do your teachings whisper within my skull.”

Whatever Sheev had expected me to say, he never saw this answer coming. He leans back and steeples his fingers. “You never fail to surprise me.”

I surge forward and switch off the connection. “I know.”

********************************************************************

Orson gapes at me, his jaw working soundlessly. The disabled holoprojector shivers in his broad hands. I wonder how quick he might be with that huge weapon of his. Overweight as I am, I am a jolly good target.

“You will let me speak to my neighbour tomorrow morning!” I stare down on him. “Old Jho might take care of my flowers, my cat and my mail if I ask him nicely. And now let us find my tankini, my bathrobe and my beach towel. Oh, and my flip-flops.”

“Your what?” he asks, agape.

“My _thongs_ ,” I repeat, this time in the dialect of his parents.

_“Oh bugger!”_ he curses and storms off, kicking the door wide open. _“Deadset, you won!”_

Even as a small boy Orson had hated losing. Many times when he had lost a game he had a severe tantrum. He still seems to be a sullen loser. I wonder how this particular personality trait fits into a prestigious career within the ranks of the Empire and an 'always-in-control' attitude.

My uncle is the elite psychopath of this age and I am sure he does not want to share his hard-won throne with anybody else. The famous 'Rule of Two' never works in reality. Three may be a crowd, but two is one too many Sith to have order.

********************************************************************

The sky is an azure blue, the waters below us crystal-clear. A multitude of islands are scattered in the ocean, some of them totally overgrown with dense jungle and others having sandy beaches.

Years ago, Scarif had been the backup plan for the wedding party that Sheev wanted to give for Barin and me. But in the end my husband-to-be and I had favoured the Gold Beaches of Corellia.

There are no military machines to be seen apart from our transporter. The spot that we are heading to is untainted by industrial waste and army buildings. All in all, Sheev's island is far away from all the important things going on.

I am the worst spy ever. The only secret that I was able to find out was Orson has carte blanche. He can go anywhere at any time. No paper work, no unnecessary explanations.

So I guess I will just to have enjoy my holidays, paid by my uncle.

I flatten my nose against the window of our armed escort shuttle, which earns me a morose sound from Orson. “What?” I ask. “Only looking.”

“Never a dull moment with you,” he mumbles.

I know the inflections of his voice and what they signify. My spine stiffens as I scrub my sleeve over the glass. Then I gaze at the grey stripe on the nose of our ship. “Why do we travel under the Imperial flag?” I wiggle in my flight seat. “This is really nailing the colour, is it not?”

Orson looks tense and that has nothing to do with him piloting our ship. “The Emperor prefers to let people think that you are his cast-off but still respected concubine.”

“And what legend did Sheev weave for you?” I wonder. “That you are my lap dog? My personal valet?”

A muscle in his jaw tics.

“He should give you full recognition for your architectural miracles instead, shouldn't he?” I state, sounding more courageous than I feel deep down. “You deserve glory and honour. Not being stuck with me for eternity.”

Orson closes his eyes for a brief second. “If you really want, I can fly straight into the ocean and they will never find us.”

Despite his threat, he continues to stay right on course. His flight style is smooth and self-controlled. He is a good pilot as far as I can tell.

“I hope you got your current rank of Lieutenant Commander for more than the prospect of babysitting me.” I smile. “You crave so much to play along with the big boys, do you? Tarkin, Yularen,...”

His knuckles look awfully white, while he holds on to the controls. “Are you done torturing me, Ina?”

“For now, yes,” I answer.

With great care, Orson sets us down on a small landing platform.

“Not bad, _mate_!” I praise him and clap frantically.

Wordlessly, he loosens his seat belt and gets out of the space craft.

I have overstepped my boundaries. This is very clear to me now. I bet that I have given him at least a dozen grey hairs over the past hours. Especially when I had him search for my sun glasses in two different moving crates.

Orson zooms straight up to the building, a familiar wooden cottage.

Sighing, I unbuckle myself and leave the ship.

I make my way to the beach as quickly as possible.

As a Naboo, water is like a magnet to me. The waves sound like a big heartbeat calling my name.

Quickly I get rid of my boots.

It was very foresighted of me to wear my tankini swimming suit right under my normal clothing.

Grinning, I strip and drop my dress, my suspenders and my stockings.

I love the feeling of the sand between my toes. It is soft and soothing. Nothing coarse or rough about it.

I move on, embrace the waves. The water is warm and pleasant. I hope nothing poisonous or otherwise dangerous awaits me in there.

Naboo's legends house various water spirits that dwell in springs, wells and fountains. As a child I often had yearned to turn into a mermaid. Until I found out that they had tragic ends.

********************************************************************

Water is a feminine energy and highly connected with the aspects of Shiraya. Used for healing, cleansing, and purification, it is associated with passion and emotion.

Nothing disturbs my freedom. It is just me floating in my most beloved element.

As I gaze towards the holiday house, I see a person coming out it. It is unmistakably Orson. His stride is smooth and unhurried. He scans his surroundings for me. His white cape billows in the wind like a pennant.

My instinct is to dive under the water, but my personal record is five minutes at best. Sheev was a very stern, yet efficient swimming coach.

Grumbling to myself, I swim back to the beach.

Of course, Orson is right there when I arrive. He holds out a fluffy towel, but I fetch it out of his hands before he has a chance to wrap it around me. The look he gives me is not disappointed, though. I am flayed by the love in his eyes, by the pity and regret.

My mouth turns dry. “No, he had no right to tell you.” I start walking backwards. “It is my story, not his. He has his own.”

“Ina.” He says my name as a plea, opening his arms.

I hide my face behind my hands. “This changes everything between us.”

“Nonsense,” he argues calmly. “It has just helped me to solve the complex equation that is you. That is all.”

“This is what I am to you? An equation?” I am enraged.

“Do not be silly, Ina,” he assures me with a wry smile. “You are a wonderful and inspiring person. Without you my life would have been a bleak affair. You taught me to live my dreams, to reach out for the stars.”

I am scared that he reaches out too much. A man like him is able to pluck the stars out of the sky like his father used to pick the apples in the Krennic family orchard.

Orson takes a step towards me, keen to give me the solace of his arms. I suppose he means well. But I cannot, will not be touched right now.

I draw one deep breath into my lungs, and run as fast as I can.

It is pointless though. He closes in with the determination of a harvest machine.

Breathing heavily, I come to a halt and lean against a palm trunk. “Did... did you... speak to Sheev on the holonet again?”

“That was not necessary,” answers Orson as he approaches me. “A certain hospital report was waiting for me in my bedroom.”

I fix my burning eyes on a set of palm trees nearby.

Arguing is pointless. The facts are crystal-clear. The severity of my injuries back then, especially the inner ones, speaks for itself.

I draw all my strength together and turn my face towards Orson. “That all happened a life time ago. I survived.”

He kneels down in the sand, a fist pressed against his chest.

“Please, don't!” I beg, having a vague idea what is coming next.

There is steely determination in his eyes. _“I swear this sacred oath that I shall protect you,_ Nagina Cassandra Mandré Palpatine, _in service to the Galactic Empire, and shall, when soever I am asked, be prepared to surrender my life for this oath.”_

Abruptly sick, I empty the contents of my stomach in racking, violent heaves into the sand.

Orson hurries towards me, grabs my hair and pulls it out of the firing line.

I groan.

“From now on, I will protect you from being a target. Even from my ambitions. Your safety is non-negotiable to me,” he assures me.

Then he produces a handkerchief from his uniform and cleans my mouth with it.

********************************************************************

We remain on the beach, because I am still dizzy and miserable. Together we sit in the sand, Orson framing me carefully with his lean body. He uses his cape as a blanket for us.

I am grateful that he does not talk to me, and I enjoy the silence between the two of us. It is like in the old days, when we sat by the river and just looked into the water together.

Back then, it was always me enfolding him in a gentle embrace. He had been such a delicate child, not really meant for the hard demands that daily life on a farm presented.

From my pocket money, I had bought Orson his first building bricks. He had amazed me with the artistry of his constructions immediately.

With the help of my foster mother, we soon organized more complex building materials for the gifted boy: translucent magnetic tiles. Those gave him a fun way to explore geometry concepts. A 'Mega Magnets Construction Set' – consisting of globes and cylindrical dowels – and a '3-D Magnet Builders' followed.

Reflecting on the past, a question forms in my mind. Am I responsible for all his army projects? For all the space stations and military building complexes?

I dare to ask the question aloud, looking up into his face, “Have I possibly loved you too much in your childhood, not able to see your potential for evil? “

“These days you drop words on me like bomb shells, Ina.” His mouth twists ruefully, but he tries to keep his tone more neutral. “It is also not fair to make me choose between your happiness and your safety non-stop.”

I consider my answer. “Growing up in my uncle's bad graces was to learn about psychological warfare first hand.”

His face falls apart, as he guesses the underlying meaning of my words. “The Emperor let you actually watch when he was breaking down people?”

I meet his questioning glance with a nod. “If you really want to know, I also watched him taking human beings apart limb by limb, too. Just once, but it certainly left an impression on me.”

His brows rise.

“I was five years old and the trophy in a fight. Sheev never negotiates with a kidnapper as Grandfather Cosinga was to find out the hard way.”

Orson makes a face, disgusted beyond means. “You should honour your uncle instead of making him the bad guy all the time. He sounds like a reasonable person, carefully weighing his chances before engaging into action.”

I am flabbergasted. “Are you serious?”

“Be grateful that the Emperor does not want any monitoring technology for you! Let alone any agents of the Intelligence Service digging into every aspect of your precious life.”

“And what are you, Lieutenant Commander?” I challenge him.

“I am still a humble engineer, building examples of architecture.”

I huff. “Keep telling yourself that!”

“To me, Ina, you will always be the universe itself. The elder sister that my parents failed to give me.” He rubs his nose gently against mine. “Even when this sister is very mean to me of late.”

My upsetment with him drains away, leaving me weary.

 

**Translation from the Chandrilan rural dialect into Basic:**  
_thongs_ = _flip-flops_  
_deadset_ = _100% sure of it. Without a doubt._  
_mate_ = _friend_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> Daily work with the 'Mega Magnets Construction Set' & '3-D Magnet Builders' from the Lakeshore Company at my kindergarten  
> A changed version of 'The Oath of Obedience', first mentioned in the “Riot Trooper” entry in the in-game databank of the PlayStation 3/ Xbox 360 versions of “STAR WARS: The Force Unleashed II”, a LucasArts video game (2010)  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia 
> 
> Inspirational song for this chapter:  
> the score “Chevaliers de Sangreal” for the movie “The Davinci Code”, composed by Hans Zimmer
> 
>    
>    
> Inspirational song for this chapter:  
> the score “Chevaliers de Sangreal” for the movie “The Davinci Code”, composed by Hans Zimmer
> 
>    
> Translation from the Chandrilan rual dialect into Basic:  
> thongs = flip-flops  
> deadset = 100% sure of it. Without a doubt.  
> mate = friend  
> chronic = arrogant, dominant, overbearing


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19:**

Thousands of white daisies await me in the bedroom. I hardly spare them a glance and move on towards the balcony, forcing the double winged doors wide open.

The sun is low in the sky. It is sunset here on Scarif.

I wonder what time it is for Lor on Coruscant. Thinking of him also reminds me of the fallen Jedi temple. Of the massacre that took place there. Not a single soul spared. Great warriors like General Skywalker killed side by side with innocent younglings. Were there mass graves? Or had there been huge pyres in the Naboo style?

“Pushing daisies,” I mumble and step onto the balcony, not caring if Orson hears me or not. “In the end it does not matter. We all die in one way or another.”

He comes to stand next me, but manages to keep a somewhat respectful distance. “This is not about death. It is a matter of the heart for the Emperor.” His face is composed and quiet, but his fingers twitch. “Who among us hasn't plucked the petals of a daisy, wondering about the affections of another person?”

“If there is a greeting card with the flowers, I will tear it apart,” I announce. “Unread.”

Alarmed, Orson reaches out for me, wraps his arms around my stiff body. “The Emperor had no hidden agenda with those flowers, believe me. But since he ordered white stargazer lilies for the brand new mausoleum of Senator Amidala...”

“Innocent flower arrangements do not suit Sheev after all the bloodshed he committed,” I interrupt him, trying to hide my pain about the passing of the great Naboo politician.

“The Emperor tries very hard, Ina,” Orson explains the obvious. “He is sorry that he had to turn your life upside down.”

My chest heaves futilely. Below the raging waves of my anger, I find the core of silent grief. Orson has not the faintest idea what he is talking about. I take a deep, shaking breath before stating, “Nobody can win my heart with manipulations like this.”

“Never say never!” he winks at me, carefree. “Let us go down for dinner now, shall we?”

I make no move.

He smooths an errant lock of hair out of my face. “It would be a pity not to open the two bottles of vintage that I bought for the occasion. One for the main course and the other one for the dessert.”

********************************************************************

It is a silent meal and my gaze is fully on my plate. I am still in my tankini, but I wear a simple beach tunic with long sleeves and a V-neck shape over it. This way, I look more decent for the occasion.

We have lobster soup as a starter, but I only manage to get down three spoons of it. I do much worse with the seafood dish, which contains various fish species and squids. The fruit dessert I leave completely untouched.

Throughout the evening I can feel Orson's eyes on me, but he does not dare to address me. Instead, he pours me more wine than he should. And I, a willing partner in crime, I drink too much. After the third glass, my tears fall like silent rain.

Padmé Amidala is buried somewhere on Naboo and I will never be able to visit her graveside.

I attempt to clean off my tears with my napkin.

Deep inside me, I yearn to tell the former senator that I am sorry. For her brutal death. For her unborn child slaughtered in her womb, possibly with a light sabre. To underscore the fact that the Jedi did it, no doubt.

“Is this about your former queen?” Orson inquires, exhausted.

I hate his ability to read others so well.

More tears flood my eyes.

“I never thought you to be a royalist, Ina,” he tries to joke and, seeing that his words have made the situation worse, he adds, “That was out of place. I am sorry.”

“He murdered her unborn child,” I whisper.

“Whom are you talking about?”

“He cut her down like a rose,” I slur. “Because he did not want to have her in his garden any more.”

Orson rises to stroke my hair, the curiosity in his gaze turning to concern. “It's better if you stop drinking right now.”

With defiance in my eyes, I empty the entire glass in front of me. “I can’t be arsed to do it,” I answer in the broad accent of the Chandrilan working class.

“This is not a request, Ina. It is an order,” he says in a soldier's clipped tones.

I struggle to make my voice hard, to match his tone. “You mistake me for one of your underlings.”

His face shows perplexity in the fleeting light of day.

“There is always a choice, you know!” I insist. “The Force does not take sides, but we do.”

“The Force.” Orson gives a humourless laugh. “You really believe that a mysterious energy field is behind everything in this galaxy, do you not?”

“Now you will tell me that science is the only significant criterion in life.”

Something flickers in his mien. “A wise man once said that _religion is the opium of the people_ ,” he answers. “That _it is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, and the soul of soulless conditions._ ”

“If you conclude now that the Jedi are the root of all evil...” My chest is too tight to continue speaking. I fight for every breath.

Orson looks at me, implacable and unwavering. “Those Force benders tried to kill your uncle, Nagina. There is heavy evidence against them.”

“You are aware that Sheev has full power of the media, have you not?” I ask. “That he has been manipulating public opinion since his election during the Naboo crisis. Besides, he has always wanted the secrets of the Jedi. All of them. Not only their precious kyber crystals.”

There is a feverish look in his eyes, close to lust.

“The crystals in the main temple. The big ones!” I call out, suddenly aware of the truth. “You both wanted them for the super weapon all along. But now that you have them, they will not be bend to your combined will. They are too sacrosanct to...”

“Stop this at once, Ina!” he bites out, obviously trying not to yell at me. “And be glad that I am not Colonel Yularen. The things he would do to silence you...”

“Colonel?” I interrupt him, my courage fuelled by alcohol. “Did he lose his admiral rank already?”

He rolls his eyes at me, somewhat impatiently. “No, he just got promoted to Deputy Director of the Navel Intelligence Agency.”

To this I have but one crisp answer. “Everybody got promoted apart from you, did they not?” I regard him curiously and, pushing all safety regards aside, I continue, “This must be hard on you, Orson. Your ego always has been a major problem in your life.”

His left hand moves to his holster. He looks dismayed, close to fury. A spark kindles in his bright blue eyes.

“But what is probably worse is that you are a _lair_ ,” I attack him.

“I am not a show-off,” he stresses.

“You spend most of your time convincing everyone how great you are at everything. People who don't know you have a tendency to believe all the boasts you make.”

“You are _as mean as cat's piss_!” he says in his softest, most deadly tone.

As I bow in my best manner, the room reels in my vision.

“But I forgive you for you are as full as a _goog_ , little _kindie_ teacher!” Without ceremony, Orson scoops me into his arms and heads for the staircase. “Blimey, you are as heavy as a bantha calf!”

Irritation clears my head. “Let me down!”

He shakes his head. “Not while I attend you. No more alcohol for you, woman!”

_“Give it a burl!”_ I shout. _“Pigg's arse!”_

_“Fair suck of the sav!”_ he laughs mirthlessly. “Your esteemed fosters would be shocked hearing you talk like that.”

Swaying like a sailor on high sea he climbs the stairs, but he does not let go of me.

“If I get a lumbar disc herniation, the Emperor will get each of the medical bills personally. I swear!” he complains. “How can a small woman weigh so much? What is your diet? Durasteel blocks?”

********************************************************************

Ignoring my protests, Orson puts me to bed. But I do not stay in there for very long. When I am sure that he is engaged in a fierce HoloNet debate downstairs, I get up.

Like most drunk people, I have a guardian angel. I climb over the balustrade and cling on to a nearby palm tree. How I make it down in one piece, I do not know. Perhaps the Force is with me after all.

“Wait!” Orson exclaims and pops his head out of the dining-room window. “I’m afraid she just came down a tree. _Yeah, it's a bit of a worry, alright._ ”

I hear gurgling chuckle from my uncle.

Grunting, I lift myself up.

Sheev says something that I cannot catch, but that does not matter. I can hear Orson fairly well.

“No, I will not set my blaster on stun. _Rack off!_ This is Ina we are talking about. If you are so keen on catching her, come for her yourself.”

Not willing to hear the rest of the conversation of my jailers, I run.

I cannot see where I am heading. It is a moonless night and the star light from above is very weak. The sea is like a black mass all around the island. Groves of areca nut palm trees stand in my way.

When I tire, I simply flop down onto the sand. Then I draw my knees up towards my chest and hug them with both arms.

Padmé and her Anakin were to have a child, a future together.

Barin and I tried hard to have children of our own, but it never worked out for us. My childhood injuries to my womb, courtesy of Grandfather Cosinga, had been too severe.

Orson cannot know that I am also crying for myself tonight, and for the motherhood that has never been. But I am sure Sheev will brief him on that issue, too. Perhaps right now, while I am sitting here in the middle of nowhere. An unhappy heap of flesh and bones, washed ashore by the tides of war.

In a broken voice, I start muttering a song that my mother Mandré taught me when I was very little:

_“Gentle Mother, font of mercy,_   
_Save our sons from war, we pray._   
_Stay the swords and stay the arrows,_   
_Let them know a better day._

_Gentle Mother, strength of women,_   
_Help our daughters through this fray._   
_Soothe the wrath and tame the fury,_   
_Teach us all a kinder way._

_Gentle Mother, font of mercy,_   
_Save our sons from war, we pray._   
_Stay the swords and stay the arrows,_   
_Let them know a better day.”_

I repeat the verse lines over and over again, until I lose my voice completely.

There are still tears left, though.

For General Skywalker and his wife.

For the murdered younglings and every other member of the Jedi order.

For all those who died due to my uncle over the past decades. Even for Grandfather Cosinga.

********************************************************************

Of course I hear the shuttle arrive some hours later, but I do not move. Not even when I notice the laboured breathing of an old man running fast with his walking stick.

Then I feel a feather-light touch at the back of my neck.

“You are wearing out one of my best engineers,” Sheev rebukes me. His altered voice sends a shiver of cold fire down my spine.

“There are other architects of doom, I am sure of it,” I retort, not looking up. My head is still bowed, my face hidden between my knees and a lot of hair.

My uncle kneels down in the sand. “Cruelty is my business, not yours.”

“We could swap places and you could pretend to be a nice elderly gentleman that loves children very much instead of killing them,” I say gravely.

He starts caressing my hair affectionately. “I did not travel thousands of light years to listen to the scorn of a woman who seems to have entered her menopause in my absence.”

“Of course not, Sheev.” I square my shoulders and look into his yellow eyes. “You are too busy stealing kyber crystals in order to build a weapon that will enable you to reinforce your Sith empire. That does not leave much time for family business.”

Neither of us speaks for long moments. He is smiling, though. Then he says, “That you expend your frustration with me on Orson is intolerable.” He removes his hands from my hair, shears away from me a bit. “The poor man is beside himself. He loves you almost as much as I do.”

“Love?” I gulp. “You, of all beings in this galaxy, dare to speak of love?”

“Nagina, I am a Sith. Therefore, I love in ways that you might find unnatural and hard to bear. But I am not heartless when it comes to you and your needs.”

“What I want from you...” I start, but he places a withered finger on my lips.

“Do not ask too much of me! You have already worked your charm on me about Organa, and that is it.”

I hear the swishing sound of his robes, which means that he is trying to rise to his own feet again.

“Orson will sleep in the living-room tonight and I will have his room.” His voice is harsh and restrained after his physical efforts. “Normally, I do not do pyjama parties like this, but I have this niece who has certain powers over me.”

Sobbing, I press my fists against my closed eyes. “Power!”

“Yes, you do.”

I cock my head a bit, the quote of one of my childhood books in mind. My eyes drill into his. “I ask for so little. Just fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your slave.”

“You are not Jareth, the Goblin King. Neither am I. Life is not a fairytale. It is hard work and sorrow. Trust me, I know what I am talking about.” He moves away as slow as a giant tortoise. “You can follow me now if you want hope.”

Hope. A single word with so much meaning behind it.

I stand quickly, brushing off sand from my beach tunic. “Lead the way,” I say, putting in an effort to sound demure and docile.

Sheev holds out his left arm.

********************************************************************

Orson breathes hard, his chest working as if he has just run several miles. His hands are resting on the dinner table. His face is unreadable, but his eyes speak a clear message. He is not pleased.

“How nice of you to finally join us, Ina,” he says in a calm, carrying voice. “What about a nice cup of tea?”

There is a clay tea pot in front of him. No steam rises from it, even though it stands on a little samovar. Before I can wonder what is inside, he starts speaking again.

“The _kava kava_ plant is harvested around here. It soothes temperaments. The drinker never becomes angry, unpleasant, quarrelsome or noisy, as happens with alcohol.”

My skin shivers all over involuntarily.

“Come on, try it!” Orson invites me and gestures towards the tea pot. “The natives, or what is left of their kind, swear on the virtue of this ceremonial plant.”

Of course he would not dare to poison me. He may be a lot of things, but he is not an oath-breaker.

The tension mounts between us like heat and when I think I cannot stand it any longer, Sheev intervenes. “Pour me a glass of wine!” he says to Orson with a crooked smile, peering at the bottles.

While his loyal Lieutenant Commander rushes to fulfil his wish, my uncle walks through the room with slow, majestic movements. “I happen to be an oenophile, too.”

Orson looks at him, agape.

“An inky dark red from Corellia,” Sheev praises, while he makes himself comfortable at the dining table. For inspection, he moves the glass closer to his eyes, turning it around. “The vintage year must be the year I was made Supreme Chancellor.”

“The other one is a wine of dense fruit and tannin,” Orson offers proudly. “From Naboo. I chose a bottle from Ina's year of birth.”

“Good choices! I just hope Nagina did not flush them down like a Bloogin.”

I am not some dumb avian species from Jakku. Besides, I feel redundant among two wine lovers. They will be better off without me. Especially when they can move on to other shared interests: intrigues, betrayal, murder, blackmail. Perhaps even classified subjects like building super weapons.

Defying, I stifle a yawn, but it does not have the effect that I wish for.

My uncle's yellow gaze is suddenly upon me, hard and merciless. “You will join us at this table!”

With wobbly legs I walk up to Orson and take the offered tea mug from him.

The liquid is lukewarm and looks strange.

“Imagine,” Orson whispers somewhat triumphantly, “I chewed the roots to help extract their kavalactones and other compounds.”

My stomach revolts.

“While you were out playing hide and seek all by yourself, I left the roots to soak in cold water,” he says somewhat louder for my uncle to hear. “A lot of love and affection went into the preparation. I will not be able to eat nuts or other hard food for a while. The things I do for you!”

“Yeah, like walking a hundred miles.”

His eyes glitter. “For your rescue, always. Not when you are just sulking or playing stupid games with me.”

I close my eyes and drink.

The taste of _kava_ is not unpleasant. It has an 'earthy' flavour to it like unsweetened coffee. Therefore, there is a certain bitterness to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> “Religion is the opium of the people”, one of the most frequently paraphrased statements of German philosopher and economist Karl Marx  
> The novels “A song of Ice and Fire” by George R.R. Martin  
> The movie “Labyrinth”, directed by Jim Hendson and produced by George Lucas (1986)  
> The website http://vinepair.com/wine-blog/your-official-guide-to-the-wines-of-the-star-wars-universe/  
> The website https://kava.com/kava-tea/  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia 
> 
>    
> Inspirational song for this chapter:  
> the hymn “Sansa's Hymn Extended” from the HBO series “Game of Thrones”, sung by Karliene
> 
>    
> Translation from the Chandrilan rual dialect into Basic:  
> arsed = bothered  
> lair = show-off  
> as mean as cat's piss = mean, stingy, uncharitable  
> as full as a goog = very drunk  
> kindie = kindergarten  
> Blimey!= an exclamation of surprise or annoyance  
> Give it a burl! = Try (it)! / Have a go!  
> Fair suck of the sav! = an exclamation of astonishment and wonder, awe, disbelief  
> Pigg's arse! = expression of disbelief  
> Rack off! = very rude expression


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still in working!

**Chapter 20:**

In the company of my uncle, Orson unfolds all his charm. He is good at small talk but, I must admit, is still a shameless self-promoter. This is a character trait he wields like a marketing tool. He also has turned into a master in the art of negotiation. If he were not a military man and an engineer, he could have been a successful entrepreneur in the intergalactic business world.

Sheev laughs from the head of the table, eating everything that Orson serves him with a good appetite.

Magically, more wine bottles appear and I begin to suspect that my uncle brought them along from Coruscant. But there is more.

There are occasional heavy steps to be heard from the veranda, which tells me that at least two Red Guards are on duty tonight. Of course the security protocol is tighter since Sheev made himself Emperor. Over are the days when he could travel on his own. He owes that to his new status, to his supposed fragile health.

As the night wears on, the voices of my generous jailers blur into one another. They get along fairly well. Since their childhoods, both men have focused only on the acquisition of power. At any cost.

I rub my aching temples.

Orson glances at me. A muscle in his cheek twitches, possibly a repressed smile. “Are you not well, Ina?” he asks.

“I feel a bit strange,” I admit, glancing down into the fourth cup of _kava_ that I have been made to drink.

After my second one, Orson had altered the mixture slightly with starch and buttermilk. This made the colour of the emulsion change from tan to an opaque greenish colour. The taste remains slightly pungent though.

He frowns at me. The blue in his eyes is like the sky at twilight. “Would you rather have some water?”  

“No, thank you,” I reply politely. There is a tingling sensation throughout my body. “I am fine.”

The crease in his brow deepens. “Are you sure?”

My hands tremble and I will them both to steadiness. “Yes,” I fib.

Orson does not comment on it, but keeps an alert gaze on me.  

In silence I finish the cup and try to play indifferent to his intense observations.

Soon it becomes harder and harder for me to focus on the ongoing conversation between Sheev and Orson. My head seems to be filled with carbon gas, turning slowly into liquid carbonite.

I place my elbows on the table in order to rest my chin on the palms of my hands. Then I draw a deep breath, feeling a little steadier.

Colours and sounds dance by.

I make a small gurgling as the air around me seems to sparkle. In wonder, I gaze around.

“Ina?” Orson asks, sounding worried.

The essence of the Force is wild and joyous. And at the same time it is gentle, so very gentle yet unimaginably vast that it makes my head spin. I am filled with so much energy that I can barely contain it.

I rise from the table.

“Ina?” repeats Orson.

My legs give way altogether and I sit down with a thump. My head drops as my shoulders sag.

Orson moves swiftly across the room. “Ina, talk to me!” he demands, while kneeling at my side.

I feel boneless and liquid. Like a drop of water, really. Finally I have become a daughter of the sea.

He places his fingertips on my temples and peers into my eyes. There is blond in his eyelashes and eyebrows. I never noticed that before. “She is having a seizure of some kind,” he says.

“Not a seizure, just a deep religious experience,” Sheev disagrees.

“Pardon me?”

My uncle shrugs. “Intoxicants of any kind do not become her. She even reacts strongly to poppy seeds.”

“You should have told me!” Orson snarls.

“Why should I have? You were the one giving the potent kava to her, not I.”

More darkness swirls into the room. Large shades of crimson loom above me.

“Master?” asks a metallic sounding voice.

“Help Krennic to get her upstairs and fetch a bucket, just in case!”

Orson nestles me against him, his heart beat fierce. “I’ve got this. This is my call alone!”

********************************************************************

To carry me upstairs is not easy for my self-appointed white knight, but he is determined and forbids any discussion on it.

“Stay put!” Orson begs me, and I vaguely wonder if he is worried for me or for his white uniform.

I see the two Imperial guards march after us, leaving their large energy pikes leaned against the dining table.

In the middle of the staircase, I peek over Orson's shoulder to wave Sheev good-night. His skin is translucent. The hollows of his eyes are sunken, the bones of his skull too prominent. He is cloaked in darkness, but there is the ghost of a smile on his thin lips.

“At last I am off to bed,” I squeak, shaking a closed fist. “At last you shall have peace!”

My uncle snorts.

_“It's funny how the dark side seems everything make small,”_ I sing. _“And the younglings that I've murdered,_  
_can't get to me at all._  
 _It's time to see what I can do._  
 _The Empire's here, the Republic it is through._  
 _No right, no wrong, no rules for me._  
 _I'm freeee._

_Let it flow, let it flow_   
_I'm one with the dark side_   
_Let it flow, let it flow_   
_This is the end of the Jediiii_   
_If you're not with meeee_   
_Then you're my enemyyyy_   
_What you ask of meeee”_

While Orson hisses my name and gives me a slap on my backside, Sheev shakes his head and mouths fondly, “My impossible girl!”

I can see my uncle shaking with silent laughter. His eyes gleam blue and bright in the twilight.

Sheev is so very like his old self that I want to wind myself out of Orson's grasp. I long to scoot into his arms instead.

If anybody needs love and compassion around here it is my uncle.

“Whoa! Stay put!” Orson complains, the cords of his neck sticking out. “This is difficult enough already.”

I kiss his cheek and giggle, still ridden by the currents of my Force experience.

“No kissing! And no wiggling, Ina!”

Colours dance by me like speckles of dust. I feel as light as a dandelion seed.

At the top of the stairs I reach out to one of the Red Guards and let my fingers wander lovingly over his helmet.

“Hi there!” the man greets me and laughs softly. And it is that very chuckle that makes me recognize Kir Kanos immediately.

“Oh hello!” I beam back over Orson's shoulder.

Kir Kanos strokes my head with his gloved hand. “Never seen anybody get so high on _kava_. You are a miracle, milady!”

“Oh yeah?” Orson, already sweaty and grumpy, grumbles. “Well, are we not all glad that she is still breathing?”

The second guard cuts in, “Irony is not conducive to her healing.”

A smile darts across my face as I recognize the speaker despite the microphone in his helmet.

_“You think you’re real cocky, don't you, mate?”_ Orson pants at Kile Hannad with rage and kicks against the half-open chamber door. “Just get me a damned bucket, would you?”

Unnoticed by him, Kir Kanos touches my foot in a supportive way.

Red Guards do not give their loyalty to another living being so easily. I am fully aware of that. They pledge themselves to my uncle with body and soul. But it seems that I am popular with those two. Since I’ve known them they have always managed to find kind words for me.

“Blessed be!” I say in a soft tone.

“Well, are we not all?” fumes Orson.

********************************************************************

The pillow is soft against my cheek and Orson has drawn the sheets up to my chin, still fussing about me. He cannot see that I am already wrapped up in spherical sounds.

“So beautiful,” I purr.

Due to the _kava_ I can perceive whistles, cracks, pops and hums that my human ears are not tuned to under normal circumstances: Charged particles from the hearts of suns encountering the magnetic fields of planets. Asteroids crashing together. Sun winds travelling. Black holes nourishing themselves.

It is most tragic that Orson does not believe in the Force around him. Otherwise he could hear kyber crystals singing their wonderful songs. He would understand that they should be left where they are. In the company of their crystalline siblings. Only wise people like the Jedi or the guardians of the Whills have the right to form a union with them.

_“The crystal is the heart of the blade,”_ I say under my breath.

“You are not making much sense, Ina. I should request a doctor from the main base.” Orson lays one hand on my brow and fumbles around to feel the pulse in my wrist with the other. “Sleep! I'll will be right here.”

Before he can draw back from me, I catch one of his hands and stroke it. “But you need to hear this,” I protest gently. “It will help you to understand the kyber crystals that you work with.”

His eyes darken. “Since when are you a crystallographer?” His tone is dry. “Do I have the wrong person on the case?”

“Listen!” I beg. _“The heart is the crystal of the Jedi.”_

He stares at me with parted lips.

_“The Jedi is the crystal of the Force._   
_The Force is the blade of the heart._   
_All are intertwined: The crystal, the blade, the...”_

“Stop! Stop there right now!” Orson regards me with one of his unreadable looks.

I breath, slow and deep. There is no way that I can make him understand.

“No more _kava_ for you! _I made a real blue._ ” He shakes his head. “My old man once had a nerf cow very much like you. A cute beast, but silly. He had to shoot it. It was a mercy kill.”

I smile up to Orson, who is utterly overtaxed and helpless. “My poor baby boy!” I babble.

“Your hurt wrist should also be checked. I fear it is not healing as well as it should.” His fingers stir in my hair, his face open and vulnerable in the light of the bedside lamp. Faint freckles are scattered across his face. “Boy, I really feel buggered! I drink kava since years and I never had a breakdown like that. I wish there were a manual for you, Ina. I badly need one. ”

It is a pity that he does not listen to my advice. He also stopped caring about music.

Suddenly, Orson makes a funny gesture with the fingers of his left hand. As if he were measuring a distance. “I am this close to gathering a team of scientists and doctors around me. Just to find out what goes on in your head.”

I frown, asking myself if he means to perform a dissection on me. Alive!

“You exhaust me more than Galen, I must give you that.” A hand descends on my right shoulder. “Just tell me when you need to chuck up here!”

I nod dreamingly, content with the universe around me. With the good and the bad things going on in my life. In the end it does not matter which side of the Force reigns over the scales. My choices do. And chosen, I have.

********************************************************************

“Bucket!” I mumble feebly in the grey hours of morning, my eyes closed. There is an immediate response from Orson. My mattress sinks under the weight of an additional body.

I press the heels of my hands against my eyes before I open them.

Sweat is running down my face. I can feel it everywhere: on my back, on my legs. Even my hair is wet.

But what is worse is that there is a chalky taste in my mouth that will not go away.

Orson holds my head with one hand and the bucket with the other.

We wait for the retching part, but nothing happens.

“False alarm,” I offer carefully.

“Right...” He lets go and puts the bucket down, his eyes narrow.

“Sor...”

My heartfelt excuse dies on my lips, silenced by the pointer finger of his left hand. “No hard feelings, Ina! I owe you. As usual, I owe you big time.”

I look straight into hooded eyes that tell me that he defied sleep.

“Take all the time you need to get better. I won't go anywhere,” he promises somewhat tenderly.

“But your project?” I blink.

“Can wait,” he assures me. “I seem to be in the Emperor's favour still. At least I had that impression two days ago.”

Uncertainly I echo, “Two days ago?”

“After the military doctor gave you a thorough check, you slept like a little mammal in hibernation.”

I try to jump out of bed, but he rests a hand on my chest and makes me sit down on the mattress again.

“And where do you think you are going?” he requests in a too-polite manner.

“Toilet?” I ask as innocently as possible.

He relaxes visibly. “You need a hand?”

I look alarmed.

“Just to bring you to the toilet,” he sighs. “Of course I won't come inside. Ina, please!”

********************************************************************

Of course I need to have breakfast in bed. From Orson's point of view that is. He is really trying to make up for the kava incident.

He rushes downstairs and returns with an overloaded silver tray. Every waiter on Coruscant would envy him for the flawless delivery.

It is a very generous breakfast: muesli with acai berries, egg crepe, flat bread with various dips, brown rice amazake with chia seeds and, my personal high light, lots of iced chrysanthemum tea.

Too much for one person, really.

Hesitantly, Orson offers to help me finish it.

The more food vanishes into his mouth, the more relaxed he seems.

Soon our conversation babbles like a river through its stone bed. Easy, unforced. It almost has the quality it used to have back in our childhood.

********************************************************************

After breakfast Orson walks me to the bathroom, where I am left alone for my morning toilette. I suspect he is talking to my uncle or to another important person of his secret project. He seems to be slightly concerned about something, but I know that I am forbidden to ask.

Taking strength from a source deep inside me, I focus the tasks ahead.

I cannot change the dreadful state the galaxy is in, but I can gain back control over my own life to a certain extent.

The kava helped me to realize an essential truth: I can laugh at the dark side of the Force right in its vicious visage. My uncle even encourages me to do so. His visit made that clear. He does not want me to go into depression, but to live life to the fullest.

I reach out for my toilet bag and rummage around in it.

Between my scrunchies and hair clips I find the item I have missed most since I left Lothal. It is a braided bracelet, with colourful wooden pellets worked into it. Lor gave it to me as a token of his love.

His tribe on Jedha is full of traditionalists, faithful to the ways of the Force. This special bracelet, made by his mother when she was pregnant with him, tells others on his moon who he is and what his roots are. Now that he is a grown-up man, he is free to give it as a token for his future bride.

I fondle my engagement present with strokes and kisses, before I put it around my fully healed wrist.

Then I start to take care of my hair. It is unruly after two days of comatose bed rest. Therefore it takes me a while to figure out the famous 'battle maiden hairstyle'. Padmé wore it during the liberation of Naboo so many years ago. It seems fitting for the things that I have in mind for today.

“It is said that love is a battlefield,” I say to myself in the mirror as I wind my hair in unaccustomed ways. “Let's put that assumption to the test, shall we?”

********************************************************************

Dressed in a crimson sarong, made out of finest silk, and bare feet I step onto the veranda where Orson waits for me. To my surprise he is in civilian clothing: a grey tank top and black cargo shirts.

He whistles approvingly when he sees me. “You look mighty fine, Ina.”

I turn around like Twi'lek dancer, trying to look graceful. “You promised me a day on the beach.”

“Indeed, I did.” He has a winning smile for me. “So what do you want to do? Walking, swimming, fishing?”

********************************************************************

I let Orson take me on a little canoe tour to the neighbouring island, one that is way smaller than ours but equally charming.

There we jump into the waves together, messing around in the water.

When we tire, our hand and foot soles looking much like my uncle's skin, we lie down on beach towels and dry in Scarif's sun.

But I do not name my request before we both drink from a coconut that Orson has plucked and opened up for us.

“You said earlier on that you owe me,” I throw in carefully.

“Yes, I did.” He is on guard. I can tell that from the flicker in his eyes. The rest of his face stays calm and composed.

“May I visit Alderaan with you?”

“No.” His voice is low and pressed. “The Emperor does not wish you to speak to Senator Organa again. You know why.”

“Chandrila?”

He shakes his head. “You would find ways to orchestrate a meeting with Senator Mothma.”

“Naboo?”

“Not for a while, I am afraid. It is not safe there for you.”

I stare into the sand in front of me, acting sad.

“Name another location we could pop by on our way back to Lothal,” he encourages me, placing a hand on my right knee cap.

“Tatooine,” I suggest randomly.

“What would you want on that dust ball?” He is amused.

“To pay my respects to General Skywalker. He was a local boy, you know,” I blurt out. “I used to be a big fan of his.”

He sips from the fresh coconut milk, considering his reply. Then he says, “You, the only living relative the Emperor has, want to enter Hutt territory. For some dead Jedi traitor. He is not even buried there.”

I wrap my arms around myself and move several inches away from him. “Why not freeze me in carbonite, Orson? To keep me safe from all possible harm that might happen to me.”

“Hey,” he says, moves closer to me and gives me a soft nudge. “Just give me a reasonable location and I will take you there.”

The moment, I have been waiting for is finally here. “Jedha,” I blurt out.

Orson is startled. “Why would you want to go there? It is not even on the way.”

“I am a religious person,” I explain.

“What do you hope to gain from a visit to that desert moon?”

“Spiritual guidance,” I whisper.

He scratches the back of his head, obviously fishing for the right words. They do not come to him. My religiosity represents a great obstacle for him. But he tries to understand. I grant him that.

I raise my chin in defiance. “Ask Sheev if I am at least allowed to pray inside the temple of Shiraya on Jedha.”

“Shiraya who?” he asks.

“The moon goddess of my people, the Naboo.”

I look into his clear, blue eyes. His face is just inches away from mine. I raise a hand and touch his cheek. “Please!”

He sighs. “I'll talk to the Emperor, but I wish you would have chosen a different destination. It is awfully cold and dull there.”

“We could stop on Coruscant and buy some winter clothing. I know some decent shops there.”

He grins ruefully at me. “You are terrible, Ina.”

Of course the way to Coruscant is barred to me forever more. But Orson would be alarmed if I had not even tried. He fails to see the real act of deception here. I am a Palpatine after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> The words of the traditional Jedi lightsaber ceremony  
> The STAR WARS Disney Frozen Parody “Let it go!” from youtube  
> The 12th Doctor calling Amy Pond: “My impossible girl”  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia 
> 
> Inspirational song for this chapter:  
> the score “Night Life in Twin Peaks” by Angelo Badalamenti from the TV series “Twin Peaks”


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still in working process!

The desert air of Jedha is frosty, but I do not mind. I breathe it in with pleasure and curiosity.

The Holy City is the most beautiful and most wondrous place in the galaxy. So many races and religions are gathered here, all in peace and harmony. As if there had never been a dire war in this galaxy in the first place.

Priestesses and monks greet each other in silent dignity. Holy men give blessings and advice to those in need.

Hymns, prayers, speeches and chants sound through the narrow street canyons.

Icons, jewellery, script rolls and other religious items are sold.

The Temple of the Whills stands silent guard over the colourful goings-on.

Cheerfully, I make my way through the hopelessly overcrowded streets. A grumpy Orson, dressed as a civilian, follows me.

“I hate woollen caps,” he complains under his breath into the scarf that I have artistically wrapped around his throat. “And I hate mittens.”

“You sulk like a two year old,” I laugh.

“You would know all about that, wouldn't you?”

“I loved you anyway. Still do,” I assure Orson.

My decision to dress us up as humble pilgrims still does not sit well with him. But his daunting white uniform would cause too many questions. Besides, it reveals things about him that he does not want to show off to the local community. And so he saunters through the masses with me, firmly holding my hand.

I pause at a market stall that sells religious trinkets.

Perhaps it is a trick of the light, but for some reason I believe that I just witnessed the flaring of a little star among the pieces of jewellery.

Orson comes to stand shoulder to shoulder with me, looking at the display of chains, ear bells and pendants. “Odds and ends,” he comments sardonically.

I am glad that the stall owner is too busy with another customer – a Rodian woman – to overhear him.

Orson walks to a neighbouring stall that offers fresh meat pies.

Scanning the displayed items, I pick up a chain which has an interesting pendant.

My heart begins to beat faster as I fumble with the winged symbol of the Jedi Order, which looks like a shining light.

The Force is with me today.

The Rodian woman leaves and I seek direct eye contact with the stall owner, handing him the symbol. While I do so, I point at Orson and make an ancient gesture for warning of evil. “You seem to have forgotten the price tag on this one,” I say in an urgent tone.

“Oh, thank you, Mistress,” the man answers. Then he eyes Orson suspiciously, who luckily has turned his back to us and is too consumed with looking at pies.

I hold up my right wrist to let the stall owner gaze at the bracelet from Lor. His eyes move over the pattern, reading it like a book text.

After some heartbeats, the man starts smiling at me.

_“I fear nothing,”_ I offer softly, just as my fiancé has taught me.

_“All is as the Force wills it,”_ the stall owner says with a broad smile.

Orson fails to understand what is going on between the native and me. Boredom and disinterest show in his face, when he comes to stand next to me again. “How long will your pilgrimage take?” he asks as politely as possible. “Just checking.”

I nudge his nose with a playful finger. “When was the last time you were one hundred percent relaxed?”

He narrows his eyes. “Where you are concerned, I am somewhat on the tight side of late.”

“Don't be!” I reach out and take his head in both hands. Standing on my toes I kiss the spot where his nose ends. “I want you to have fun in the next twenty-four hours.”

He closes his eyes. _“Fair dinkum?”_

“Would I ever lie to you, Orson Callan Krennic?” I tut. “Just one night in a lodging house with other pilgrims after a big walkabout with you will be sufficient.”

Laughter rumbles through his body. “Beauty!”

Suddenly, his comlink goes on.

“Stay here!” he curses. “I'll be right back.”

“My uncle?” I enquire.

“Damned right.”

While Orson hurries off to seek a lonely side street, the stall owner leans towards me, “It's a pleasure to meet you. I am Ton San Tekka, his third cousin once removed.”

With that brief introduction he shows me his own bracelet. It looks similar to that of my _fiancé_ , but some of the patterns are completely different.

Lor indeed has a huge clan scattered all over Jedha.

“I am Nagina.” I extend my hand in greeting and add in a whisper, “The niece of the Sith lord who rules us all now.”

Ton San Tekka pales considerably, but shakes hands with me anyway.

“I have come to warn all good citizens of Jedha. At present Sheev Cosinga Aurelius Palpatine is looking for kyber crystals all over the galaxy.” I look around, but nobody else is listening in. “His aim is to build a weapon that even the Celestials would fear.”

A moment of shocked silence follows my revelation.

Here on Jedha, the centre point of religious life in our galaxy, folk remember the Sith fairly well. And the atrocities they created to rule with fear and terror once upon a time.

Orson rushes back to me. “Your uncle is a bit paranoid,” he says to me in a low voice. “He told me to not leave you alone under any circumstances. As if you would be able to conspire against him in such a short time.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Then we better not tell Sheev about the major glitch that just happened here.”

He rolls his eyes. “I am not a Besalisk who has four arms with four hands on them. One hand to hold you tight, another one to answer a comlink and the rest to cover your pretty ears from hearing too much.”

I pull the woollen cap over his face. “Ace!” I rebuke him and start walking away from the stall, waving the owner good-bye.

Orson, readjusting his headdress, catches up with me immediately. “Hey, did you not want to buy anything?”

“Nay, I was just looking around,” I assure him.

“You mean messing around,” he corrects me mockingly.

Suddenly, I am trapped in his arms and my head scarf is removed. Teasingly, he works on my hair with his fist. Within seconds he turns it into a frizzy mess.

“Hey!” I yelp.

“Now I was the one messing around,” he assures me smugly.

********************************************************************

Compared to the neighbouring buildings it is a small temple, but I do not go for grandeur. That is not what being a daughter of the moon is about.

With downcast eyes I step on the first step of the staircase that leads up to the entrance door. “Oh Lady, I am not worthy to enter thy home, but speak the word only and my soul shall be healed.”

Shiraya is known for helping lost souls.

Slow and purposeful I claim each stone step, doing my best to blend out Orson's presence. He is always two feet behind me, a keen protector. My one man army, really.

As is the custom for the Naboo, I take off my shoes before entering the holy grounds. I also get rid of my stockings.

Orson sighs and follows my example, but leaves his woollen socks on.

I raise a quizzical eyebrow at him.

“Really?” he challenges me.

I nod.

“You are more persistent than an army doctor.” He makes a face, pulls off the socks and stuffs them into one of his black leather boots that say military property all over.

I reward Orson with a little kiss on his right cheek.

“The things I do to keep you happy,” he mutters and stares at his exposed feet. “The ground is icy. The current temperatures must be below the freezing point.”

“If you would believe in the concept of the Force or divine lead...”

He rises a hand to silence me. “I will have mercy on you, when you develop a cystitis from this madness. Women tend to have them more than men.”

The door to the temple has a knocker in the shape of a crescent moon. Orson raises it and raps sharply.

An elderly man of the Brotherhood of Cognizance opens. With his kind, bearded face he reminds me of Maxiron Agolerga, their anointed pontifex.

“Welcome on this bright, promising winter day!” the brother greets us cheerfully, leading us into the inner sanctum.

“He is aware that this moon has a never-ending winter, right?” Orson hisses.

“Shiraya teaches us to enjoy each moment to the fullest, to take life for what it is,” I explain politely.

The brother, who seems to be blessed with a good pair of ears, smiles at me benevolently. For my companion he has a pitying but well-meant glance. He seems to think that a bad attitude can be overcome.

Tenderly, I fondle Orson's hand. “Do not fuss! This is important to me.”

“Sorry,” he mutters and stares at his naked feet.

We are led into a chamber where we can do the ritual washing of our hands and feet. I show Orson how. He is a quick and efficient learner. I'll grant him that.

Then we reach the heart of the building: the marble prayer hall with a life-size sculpture of the moon goddess. Flower garlands and burning votive candles surround her.

I breathe in the scents that hang in the air, all so familiar to me since my early childhood: cinnamon, winter cherry, juniper, black cumin seed, clove and the kusum flower.

Orson pauses with me, not letting go of my hand. The scenery must overtax a nullifidian scientist like him.

“Many Naboo incenses are thought to have medicinal properties,” I tell him in a solemn voice. “Their recipes, unchanged for centuries, come from ancient texts that are based on even older Ayurvedic medical texts.”

“Ayur, what?” inquires Orson, desperate to understand.

“A holistic system of medicine. Its aim is to provide guidance regarding food and lifestyle so that healthy people can stay healthy.”

“Aha, and what about sick folk?”

“Those with health challenges can improve their health.”

“Of course,” he smirks. “I wonder if that type of medicine would have helped somebody like General Grievous. You know, the cyborg general of the Separatists. He had this nasty cough.”

“No doctor, healer or shaman in the entire universe could have helped him,” I answer, remembering my last meeting with the large Kaleesh warrior. “He was a lost case altogether.”

I get on my knees to light a candle, but there are not enough on the entire moon of Jedha for all of Sheev's victims. One will have to do.

********************************************************************

How long I remain sitting on my thighs with my palms turned towards the ceiling I do not know. Time is irrelevant. At least for me.

Orson leans his chin on my left shoulder. “I am in the tea room, okay?”

I hear him leave.

Finally, I can let go of everything that bothers me. It is just me and the goddess. No more lies. No more fears.

Ancient words leave my lips.

_“Grant me the strength, Goddess, to whom I ask, to whom I pray; extend Your assistance to me.”_

Walking one's own path is never easy. But divine Shiraya listens to those who seek her advice. Courage, independence, and self-trust are gifts that she has in stock for those who humbly ask her aid.

To be the future gate keeper for House Palpatine is not easy. I am under no illusion about that, but I am willing to sacrifice my own life for this task.

Suddenly, I feel the presence of another pilgrim kneeling next to me. The heat that this person radiates reminds me of somebody that I used to know.

I open my downcast eyes and hazily gaze at a large pair of hands. They are grimy with crusted dirt, and the black nails broken. But I do not draw away. Their tattoos are too familiar, too dear to me.

“I was told that you died during the Battle of Naboo,” I whisper, my voice somewhat strained by upcoming tears. “What happened, Maul?”

“Not now!” He reaches out for my hands, leads them towards his mouth and kisses my fingertips. I can feel that his lips are are cracked and peeling. “Just let me enjoy your company, little sister. Your companion will be back soon.”

This assumption I can rebut. “Frankincense is not his thing. Neither are praying sessions. He hails to science only.”

“But he will get suspicious,” Maul argues, still holding my hands in a gentle manner.

“That is his second name, I am afraid.”

His eyes are yellow with the dark side, yet for me he has nothing but a friendly gaze. “Sidious choose your bodyguard wisely then. The structure of this galaxy is breaking apart. You need somebody to protect you in times like this.”

“What I really need is answers,” I protest.

“No pilgrim ever gets the results he expects.” Maul gazes me with unhidden regret, his eyes quizzical. “To me, the Force itself sends an angel when I am asking for nothing but revenge. You are my sign.” He pauses. “And I am afraid that I am yours. The Age of the Darkness is here.”

I bite my lips, glaring at his robed figure.

“My advice to you is simple. Stay away from Sidious and creatures like me!” he says, releasing my hands. “You break too easily because you care too much.”

“You cannot leave me like this!” I protest, for there is so much to say after all these years.

Slowly but with purpose, Maul gets to his feet. “If fate is kind, we will not meet again.” His yellow eyes, spiked with red veins, flare like Tatooine's twin suns. The strained lips quiver in what is almost a smile. “Give me hope, little sister!”

********************************************************************

It is the brother I encountered before who finds me crying at the feet of the goddess. He squats down in front of me. “My name is Brother Gaetano. Is there anything I can do to lighten your burden, my daughter?”

I shake my head.

“Do you want to talk about it?” the elderly man inquires softly.

The answer that I have is simple. “My pain is nothing. The entire galaxy is in pain since the Return of the Sith.”

Brother Gaetano studies my face in wonder, then gives himself an unselfconscious shake. “You are much mistaken, my daughter.” He places a hand on my shoulder, announcing solemnly, “The Sith are just a spectre of the past. Their religion died out many centuries ago.”

I am glad that he did not notice Mauly just now hanging out here for a while. “And who had the most interest in destroying the Jedi Order, an actual motivation and the means to bring it about?” I ask, looking him straight in the eyes. They are as green as Naboo's plains. As innocent as them. “Who will come to Jedha to claim the local kyber crystals? To build weapons even the Celestials would declare as blasphemous?”

His chest rises and falls. Clearly, the notion rocks the foundation of his world. The colour of his tanned face changes to an unhealthy red.

“You think the war is over?” I move on. “The Clone Wars were just an overture. The current _sith'ari_ has only just started to orchestrate his master piece.”

The brother places a hand over his fast-beating heart. His fingers are long and tapered. “This is impossible!” he gurgles.

“Darth Zannah, the Sith apprentice of Darth Bane, was good at hiding in plain sight. One time she concealed herself within a group of Jedi knights. They never found out until it was too late.” I give a side glance at the statue of the goddess. She seems to smile at me encouragingly. I compose myself and say the words that condemn my uncle. “Sheev Cosinga Aurelius Palpatine studied her history and Force skills very carefully.”

Brother Gaetano tilts his head, candle light spinning the length of his grey hair. “Why have you never have stepped forward with your story?”

“Jedi Council member Mace Windu thought I was a mad woman. He did not care for the evidence that I offered him three times.”

He frowns, scratching absently through his beard. His expression changes into one of deep consideration.

I eye him wearily.

His hands shift into a contemplative pose. Into one that I have seen in the effigies standing on Theed plaza. It takes him a while to speak his mind. “I fear that Master Windu knew the truth all along, my daughter. The truth that the Sith had returned to this galaxy, but the Jedi Council did not wish a mass panic.” He licks his lips briefly. “So they lied, even to our congregation. The Pontifex was only told that a mighty darksider had killed Master Jinn. A Sith lord was never mentioned.”

This is grave news. A part of me always had always known, though.

“The road to doom is always paved with good intentions,” I say in a dull tone. “That was not the first time in history that members of the Jedi Council were mislead.”

His eyes gleam. “Would you care to share your precious knowledge with me?”

I glance over my shoulder. No sign of Orson yet. “You do not want my darkness, brother,” I say in a rush.

His eyes crinkle. _“There is a light that shines beyond all things,_  
_beyond all of us, beyond the heavens,_  
_beyond the highest, the very highest heavens._  
_This is the light that shines in our hearts.”_

Such simple words and yet they open a door in my huddled thoughts. “The light of the Force,” I whisper.

He nods encouragingly.

With a heavy heart, I share what my uncle once had taught me about the rise of Darth Revan. “During the Mandalorian Wars Master Lucien Draay committed a grave mistake. He had a group of Padawans struck down during their Knighting ceremony.” I slump my shoulders. “In this way, his infamous WatchCircle wanted to prevent the return of the Sith. But their deed conjured the enemy.”

Brother Gaetano sits back on his heels, his expression grave and serious. “My poor daughter, it seems to me that a Sith lord raised you in secret and taught you most of his ill trade.”

My throat works, but I cannot answer to the obvious.

“Yet you continue to serve the light of truth. You are very brave. May Shiraya remain at your side! ” He kisses my temples in blessing. “May her gentle light help you to navigate in the darkness!”

**Translation from the Chandrilan rural dialect into Basic:**  
_Fair dinkum_ = _Honestly?_  
_Beauty!_ = _Great!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> A changed version of the prayer “O Lord, I am not worthy that thou shouldest enter under my roof, but speak the world only and my soul shall be healed.” [e.g. in Old Catholic Church Communion]  
> A prayer to the goddess Diana by Livius Andronicus Equos Troianos  
> A Hindu prayer by Chandogya Upanishad  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia 
> 
>  
> 
> Inspirational song for this chapter:  
> the song “The Mystic's Dream” by Loreena McKennitt


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still in working modus

When I enter the tea room, Orson puffs away on a hookah pipe, reading something on a data pad.

Instead of making a comment about the health risks of using a water pipe, I take some time to let my eyes wander.

The interior reminds me so much of that in the Theed main temple, which is served by a congregation of twelve brothers. Here on Jedha there seem to be just three men: a ground keeper, a _chéf de cuisine_ and Brother Gaetano, the spiritual healer.

Orson puts his hose away when he notices me. “Excessive praying sessions seem not to become you.” He gets up and rushes towards me, wrapping a supportive arm around me. “You need a decent cup of tea, Ina.”

With a deep frown he accompanies me to a cushion chair next to his. I am poured a mug of steaming hot brewery.

“Rose petal tea. Drink slowly!” Orson patronizes me.

Soon I am offered almond flower cookies and other niceties of Naboo bakery art. Our low tea table, consisting off of an ornamented brass plate and three delicate table legs, is on the brink of breaking down.

“I was not sure what you like, so I ordered the entire high tea set,” Orson explains, somewhat flustered.

“That was very thoughtful of you,” I praise him.

I enjoy the effect of my words immediately. He gives me a warm smile that comes straight from his heart.

“Want some rice cake first?” he asks.

Actually, I do.

Everything that Orson offers to me is sinfully delicious. _Tiramisú_ with a lavender scented _mascarpone_ , baked _ricotta_ cheesecake with icing sugar and, my secret favourite, a slice of chocolate almond cake.

“Why Shiraya?” he asks me politely after some time has passed. “I was given to understand the Mother Vima occupies the paramount throne in the pantheon of Naboo gods.”

“You are well informed.”

“I try to be.” He winks at me. “See, as a boy I had this extraordinary babysitter. She believed in the pursuit of knowledge for either personal or professional reasons. That concept of hers is called lifelong learning.”

Putting on a smile, I place my hands on my lap. “You make it sound like I invented that concept.”

“As far as I am concerned, you did.” Watching me raptly, he flashes a boyish grin. “Looking back, you always did or said things that blew my _kiddie_ -consciousness into a million pieces. You turned my universe into a much brighter and more interesting place.”

Talking with Orson has always been a journey and, most of the time, a joy.

Without thinking, my fingers form the _Mantanagi_ mudra, which resembles the trunk of an eopie. Calmness and serenity flood my mind with no delay. “My mother Mandré was a follower of the moon goddess. Sheev did not mind that she raised me in the old lunar traditions.”

“How come I never noticed your profound religious life?” He glares down his nose at me, one brow sharply arched.

“Religion is usually a very private thing for me,” I explain, enjoying my second mug.

“Knowing your fosters, they of course encouraged you to keep up your faith and supported you in every way possible.”

I detect a certain amount of jealousy from Orson. His own parents – organic fruit farmers hailing from Lexrul – had been utterly overtaxed with him. He had possessed a heightened sensibility and a hunger for wisdom that had been out of proportion on an average farm. The constant pressure of hard labour and lack of understanding had created misunderstandings on both sides.

After some pondering, I say, “Your parents also love...”

“You never give up, do you?” There is distant thunder in his blue eyes. His mouth is clamped in a straight line. “Like a little doggy, having locked its jaws onto a victim.”

I lower my tea mug and give him a radiant smile. “And you never learned to bite on the bit. It can be tolerated in a small child, Orson, but not in a grown-up man in his thirties. Therefore, I implore you to be careful around men like Tarkin.”

His hands curl into fists. “We should change the subject,” he urges, fighting his inner demons – pride and temper.

“You have to allow me to be concerned for your well-being once in a while, too,” I say soothingly.

“The tables have turned, Ina. When I was small I needed you. Now I can pay back the favour.”

In silence we finish the large tea pot and our assortment of cakes. But the tension still crackles between us.

********************************************************************

When Orson gets up to bring our metal tray to a side table, he says in a curt tone, “I know you will not believe me, but actually I work hard to assist your uncle in bringing back peace...”

“Peace?” I yelp.

“Our concept of peace does not align with yours, I am sure. But flowers, candles and prayers will not give this galaxy a fresh start. We need military solutions.”

“You mean military build-up,” I correct him gravely. “Weapons that can destroy entire planets.”

He shrugs. “Peace has a price. We have to start somewhere.”

This is the moment to ask the most urgent question that is on my mind. “Will the Empire tear down the temple of the Whills very soon?”

The alertness in his eyes is huge. “Why would we do that?”

“Sheev stripped the Coruscant Jedi temple and found out that it is not enough for your project, right? Kyber crystals die after each test run of yours,” I say, fighting for calmness. “Now I have bad news for the two of you. The deposits of Jedha won't be sufficient either.”

His eyes are intense, while his expression is nothing but stricken.

I lift my chin in a proud manner. “You should forget about the icebound caves of Ilum, too. Nothing is able to fulfil the hunger of your super laser.”

“Let it go!” Orson says gruffly.

“The dark side devours energy. Taking life happens to cost a lot of energy. This is not what sacrosanct beings like the crystals are there for. You cross a dangerous line. The _status quo_ , the balance of the Force so to speak, needs to be respected.”

He snorts, unconvinced by my words. “This is a question of applied science, Ina. It's not about faith and some pseudo energy field related to that faith. My battle station will be there to protect people from getting harmed by extremists.”

“Question your scientific logic, Orson!”  I bite back, a catch in my voice. “Are you aware what will happen when entire planets suddenly vanish from the stellar charts? When nobody is safe any more? When life ceases to have a meaning?”

“You are overreacting. I am building an instrument of peace and benefit.”

I gaze at my inner armoury, running through the entire inventory. Then I find the sharpest argument that I have. “You are too driven by greed, Orson. Theory is not enough for you. This is why Lucky had to die.”

He presses his lips together, his haggard face ashen.

“Of course you were sorry for the poor dog. I never doubted that. But that is not the entire story. You cried for yourself as much as you cried for Lucky that day.”

Slowly, he averts his gaze from me. “This is getting unhealthy, Ina.”

“Only if you strike back,” I clarify.

“The Empire will always strike back. And I am with the Empire,” he assures me, while his gaze wanders back at me. “Are you not sick of fighting, Ina? It really achieves nothing apart from wearing yourself out.”

I shake my head. “You...”

“Face it!” he interrupts me. “Your grandfather won when he dragged you down the wine cellar stairs.”

I cannot believe that he really uses this against me.

“Why have you been trying to save everybody else ever since?” he asks in a mild voice, his gaze investigative. “You hardly have strength to support yourself.”

Before his hand can cup my chin I push it away. “Oh but you are very mistaken. This is not about me being an abuse victim. It's about Sheev and his darkness. I am too much of a believer when it comes to those with a rotten character. Even in your case.”

********************************************************************

When we leave the tea room not much later, Orson gives a very generous donation to Brother Gaetano. “It was a pleasure,” he says and bows.

The elderly man does not smile, but the creases around his eyes deepen as he raises a hand in blessing.

_“Asatho Maa Sad Gamaya._   
_Thamaso Maa Jyothir Gamaya._   
_Mrithyur Maa Amritham Gamaya._   
_Om Shanti, Shanti, Shanti.”_

Orson blinks at the brother, who translates his benediction from Sanskrit into pure basic.

_“_ _From untruth lead us to truth._  
_From darkness lead us to light._  
 _From death lead us to immortality._  
 _Om Peace, Peace, Peace.”_

I shudder, for I know the Prayer for the Dying too well by far.

Orson, unaware of what has just occurred, rushes to retrieve our coats from the cloak room.

Brother Gaetano inclines his head to me, “Nobody should reach out to the stars in the way he does.” There is no malice in his eyes. Just kindness and wisdom. “The Force itself will judge him for that at the end of his life. It is known.”

“It is known,” I repeat heart broken.

********************************************************************

 

The sun is setting already as Orson and I come out of Shiraya's sanctuary. A pink horizon stretches above the Holy City, attacked by night shadows. Temperatures have dropped considerably.

Maul must have sneaked out of the holy grounds in a roundabout way.

Worried for the Zabrak, possibly on the run from my uncle, I readjust my head scarf and voice an old Naboo protection chant.

_“_ _Blessed are we in the awakening dawn_

_Blessed are we in the morning”_

With military discipline Orson remains standing next to me, his arms behind his back. He wears his usual poker face. Even his eyes give nothing away.

_“_ _Blessed are we in the light of the day_

_As we feel the earth turning_

_Blessed are we as the twilight descends_

_And the magic of dusk is upon us_

_Blessed are we in the dark of the night_

_As we slip into dreams calling”_

Full of yearning I gaze towards the Temple of the Whills.

The _Garuda_ mudra comes to me automatically. I place my right palm over the top of my left hand, spreading my fingers apart and crossing the thumbs.

My intuition heightens within several heartbeats.

Orson comes to life again. “Let's call it a day,” he yawns, politely covering his mouth with a gloved hand. “We had better check into a hostel long before midnight. You need rest.”

He is right. It has been an exciting day so far, full of emotions, unexpected meetings and uneasy truths. The Temple of the Whills can wait until tomorrow. I need a clear mind for my next act of rebellion.

“Please, Ina!” he says, his eyes soft and pleading. “You waver like an ear of corn in the wind.”

“Okay,” I breathe and take his offered arm.

********************************************************************

While Orson and I zigzag through the still overcrowded streets, I cannot help feeling watched. It is not the unhealthy yellow of the dark side, though. At least two dozen humans smile at me. Standing at corners, on balconies or behind market stalls they reveal their Clan Tekka bracelets to me in silent salute. Men, women and children alike.

I wonder if Lor himself has been informed about my whereabouts by now. Thinking of him lightens my spirits again.

“You are so smiley all of a sudden,” Orson observes.

“It has been a very nice day with you. I enjoyed myself very much.”

It's not a total lie.

“You are a strange creature, Ina. Scarif's lonely beaches cannot tempt you to stay, but this smelly, overcrowded sludge of a city turns you almost ecstatic.”

To this I have an easy explanation. “I lived on Coruscant, Orson. Therefore Jedha feels a bit like home.”

“Imperial City does not smell of animal dump and frozen sweat.”

“You have never been to the lower levels, right?” I grin, trying not to look too surprised that Sheev already renamed an entire planet in his honour.

His gaze narrows considerably. “What business would a _kindie_ teacher have down there?”

“You should rather ask yourself what an elderly gentleman like my uncle was doing there frequently.”

“The less I know, the better,” he decides.

“You just want the place of honour that you deserve within the Empire, right?”

“Damned right. There are days I am tired of licking boots and dealing with arrogant arses like Tarkin,” he mutters into his scarf. “That _bloke_ always gets what he wants. Just by being of noble descent.”

“Life is not fair, Orson. It never was. Blood always wins out. And the way to the top is lonely.”

********************************************************************

After a while we arrive in a much quieter, less populated area. The buildings here look well tended. Most of them are painted in cheerful colours.

Orson checks his chrono and then heads straight into an entrance.

“This must be it! NiJedha Inn, a private bed and breakfast. It comes highly recommended from a good acquaintance of mine.” A boyish grin spreads all over his face, making him seem ten years younger. “He is an intelligence officer and travels a lot.”

Soon we end up in a clean double room. It has a little bathroom with a sonic shower, a washing basin and a toilet. The only obstacle, there is just one bed.

Orson makes a face. “She must have misunderstood me. I asked for a double.”

Supportive, I pat his back. “I don't mind at all. As long as you do not steal my blanket, it'll be fine.”

Before he can argue, I flop myself on the mattress and play snow angel with my arms and legs stretched out wide.

“But we are not children any more,” he gives to consider, his gaze nervous.

“Trust works both ways, Orson Callan Krennic!”

Sighing, he sinks down next to me. “I suppose.”

I reach out for my pillow and playfully whack him with it.

Laughing, he gets his own pillow and we engage in a chaotic fight until I have to yelp, “Ceasefire!”

********************************************************************

When it is time to undress for the night, I am allowed into the bathroom first. Using old Naboo wisdom on female hair style, I braid my hair into two pig tails. This gives me a much younger appearance. My plain lavender night gown adds to the illusion of innocence.

Orson remains standing in front of me, his dark toilet bag pressed against his chest. “You know that the Emperor stayed two days by your bedside, gazing at you. He wanted nothing but to be left alone to enjoy your company. The Red Guards were unsettled.”

It does not surprise me to hear that. Sheev always enjoys guarding my sleep. My first memories are of his smiling face hanging above me. In such moments he could be a mere human and not a powerful Sith lord.

“Why did my uncle leave without saying good-bye?” I ask, even though I know the answer.

Orson shrugs. “Something came up, I suppose. He didn't say.”

I have an idea: the Sith apprentice.

There is distrust between a master and his dark disciple, a constant fight for the upper hand. I experienced that first hand with Maul and was kept out of reach of Count Dooku most of the time. This means their successor is a dangerous foe and hard to control. Perhaps Sheev is still busy taming him.

While Orson is busy in the bathroom, I draw the blanket tight around me.

I wish I could warn Bail or his senate colleague Mon Mothma. They have to be aware that they are dealing with a Sith duo again. That means that the galaxy is in an even bleaker state than they feared it to be.

********************************************************************

My sleep is uneasy that night. Orson snores like an entire squad of clone troopers. Several times he reaches out for me. He does not do it consciously, though. His sleeping pattern has not changed very much over the years. There is such a need in him.

When he rolls the opposite way, I get up and I sneak towards the bathroom unit.

I lock myself in and sink down on the toilet seat.

Orson would never do a body search on me, let alone a strip search.

A disposable comlink for one time use is hidden in a secret pocket in my panties. Boba gave it to me. It is bug-proof and cannot be detected easily.

Nervously I turn the device around in my hands.

It is tempting to send out a message, but second thoughts run like a herd of panicked banthas through my mind.

What if I get the person that I contact in severe trouble? Is it worth the risk?

Tomorrow morning I must converse with more key essential members of this community. This city needs to be protected by all means. It is the most holy place that is left in our galaxy. The source of many religions and civilisations.

I cannot have Sheev turn this moon upside down in his search for kyber crystals. He only gave Orson permission to bring me here so that I am able to experience the flair of the pilgrimage site before he poisons it.

“You did not raise me to be stupid, Sheev,” I mumble.

I am scared to death when the comlink suddenly comes on.

“Nagina!”

It is not my uncle. This is definitely Boba's voice with no tell-tale sign of modulation. He is not wearing a helmet then.

_“_ _Ad'ika,”_ I beam in Mandalorian. _Little one._

“Where are you?” There is a subtle trace of buried emotions in his words. “My contacts on Lothal tell me that you have been off-planet for days. An Imperial officer, possibly ISB, was seen at your house several times.”

“No worries,” I assure him, before he can offer to show up for the rescue. “I am with a former babysitter child of mine.”

A pause. Then he murmurs. “Not all of us deserve your trust. Never forget that.”

Despite everything, I laugh softly. “I do not have a bad feeling about Orson when it comes to me.”

A sigh on the other end.

“You need to check about somebody else for me,” I add carefully. “His name is Galen Erso. He has a wife named Lyra and a daughter named Jyn. They all might be in great danger.”

_“_ _Haar'chak!”_ Boba comments. _Damn it!_ This is not the HoloNet series 'Coruscant Nights'. You are not a private detective.”

“There is no need for you to delve into that,” I let him know, sounding aloof on purpose. “But if you still feel strongly about Geonosis, you can have revenge on the person truly responsible for your father's death.”

There is another snort, this time somewhat angry. “Rumour goes that Mace Windu fell out of a window when he tried to kill your uncle. That makes it even, don't you think?”

I wait.

_“_ _Aliit ori'shya tal'din,”_ he says quietly. “ _Family is more than blood._ I will look into it and get an answer back to you in the usual way.”

I brace myself for his closing words.

“Just stay alive, Nagina! Or I will revive you to kill you myself.”

********************************************************************

The memories come to me unbidden. They do that at times. It is mostly stress that brings them forth. Like water corpses, they rise to the surface.

Grandfather Cosinga smiles that horrible smile again and fists my hair, dragging me down the stairs.

When I wake up in the present, screaming and thrashing, Orson is at my side. He wraps his arms and legs around me like a dragon’s claws. “Shush, Ina!” His voice is but a guttural rasp. “I am here.”

I feel the urge to struggle against him, but I am too wiped out. Physically. Emotionally. So I remain where I am, buried right under him.

“Nobody can come past me,” he says, his lips at my left ear. “All is well!”

I wish that would be true, but my life is crowded with two men who care too much for my well-being. Who are too much alike. And the mere mortal is even more pushy and obsessive than the Sith lord who raised me as his own.

As I heave out a breath, Orson kisses my temple. “Fancy a sleeping pill?”

Even though I feel as brittle as broken glass I find the willpower to shake my head.

“Very well then.” He shifts us into a more comfortable position. “Ever tried muscular relaxation?”

To this I nod.

“Let us start with your hands then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> A wiccan chant  
> A Hindu prayer  
> Complete Wermo’s Guide to Mandalorian  
> SWC Mandalore.Com  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia
> 
>  
> 
> Inspirational song for this chapter:  
> the score “Orson Krennic Suite” for the SW movie “Rogue One” by Michael Giacchino


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still in working modus

I awaken up because of Orson. His blue eyes are sabacc-sharp and implacable in the morning light. My heart beats faster in my breast, knowing that he is up to something. _“G'day, mate!”_ I greet him with the brightest smile that I can muster. Hello, friend!

He reaches out for one of my pig tails, actually the one that dissolved during the night. While he plaits it anew, he starts singing low and soft.

_“I've seen tricks like this before,_  
_I've been shaken to the core_  
_and I got over it”_

Since he only wears a military sweat shirt, I can see the muscles in his shoulders surge. Now I am even more alert. “You are really in a mood this morning,” I suggest. “What has brought this on?”

Orson laughs, buoyant and joyous. Then he goes on singing a totally different verse.

_“We fool around and fall apart_  
_Yeah we sure perfect the art_  
_and we get over it_  
_These busted knees and killer bees_  
_They beat the ... right out of me_  
_and I got over it”_

I stick my tongue out to him.

Orson grimaces, showing his perfect white teeth. “My Death Troopers...”

“Sheev gave you command over the Walking Dead from Koriban?” I throw in, paling.

Orson blinks at me. “What?”

“Do you have zombies protecting you?” I rephrase my question to him.

The entire room rocks with his laughter. “You... are better... better than... a stand-up-comedian.”

Ruefully, I glare at him. “Reanimating corpses with Sith alchemy and magic is no laughing matter, Orson Callan Krennic.”

He stares at me, mouth opening gradually as though to say something. Instead, he throws his head back and roars with laughter again.

I make a face.

“My little story-teller.” He smiles wickedly. “You have such an inventive mind. But no clear gaze on the real world. Science is about facts and figures only.”

If he only knew about the Sith Tradition, which has a distinguished history of being masters of the alchemical sciences, he would think differently.

“My personal body guards, six hand-picked Death Troopers, are the best that Scarif has to offer. Their training was much more thorough than that of average storm troopers.”

I think of the horrors a trainee of the Red Guard has to face. Suddenly, I feel sorry for his men. If they like home-made food, I should bake a Joghan fruit cake for them on my return to Lothal and invite them over.

Orson's hands wrap around my shoulder blades like the tentacles of a dianoga. “Saw Gerrera, a battle-hardened extremist from the Clone Wars, is in town.”

Of course, Sheev has talked to me about the infamous terrorist. En détail. Especially the part when Saw Gerrera got tortured by a Super Tactical Droid named Kalani. My uncle finds immense pleasure in such stories.

“Gerrera,” I repeat.

“He is looking for me.” There is urgency in his voice. “If that monster finds out who you are and what you mean to the Emperor...”

I reach out to touch Orson's face, sliding my hand down his yaw. “Never mind. I need to visit the Temple of the Whills.”

“Argh!” he curses.

I let my hand fall from his face.

“Do you ever listen, Ina? It is not safe to go up there today. I only have six men in undercover modus.”

“Seven,” I disagree and point straight at his weapon that lies on the bedside table.

“Ina!” he growls, his brow furrowed.

“Are you a man or a grass mouse, Orson Callan Krennic?” I quip. “My uncle surely would not let a coward watch over me.”

“Coward,” he repeats darkly.

********************************************************************

Of course I win the contest of wills. Orson never liked to be called gutless. With a grave face he steers me through the Holy City, his left arm wrapped around me.

In an attempt to ease the situation I snuggle closer to his chest. “Were your men with us all the time?” I ask casually as if talking about the eternal winter sky above Jedha.

His mouth curves. “Ina, dear, you are a handful.” He plants a kiss on my headscarf. “And so I need indeed a hand full of men for an outdoor mission like...”

Suddenly, there is an awfully bright light and I am bereft of my vision.

“Flash-bang!” Orson yells and has the presence of mind to cover me with his body.

Lying on the ground with him, I feel the pressure wave of the bomb in every part of my body. Especially in my ears. They ring painfully.

Orson clings on like a Sarlacc, but his hands speak a more tender language. They stroke me reassuringly. Without words they tell, that I am safe. No matter what.

My nose wrinkles.

This attack might be like an ego boost for him. He loves being my valiant knight.

With some delay there is a lot of screaming and running. I hear it subdued as if I am underwater. Orson's body still blankets mine. “Backup!” he shouts into his mic.

There is an answer, but I cannot make out the words.

Blood rushes through my veins, while other strange sensations spread inside me. Most of all nausea.

Orson lets go of me and struggles to his feet. Blinking in quick succession I watch him producing his blaster.

A giant of a man comes running towards us, unerring. It seems that he is desensitized to the resulting 'Flash' and 'Bang' of the dazzle grenade. Or he is a Korriban zombie after all.

“5537!” Orson barks through all the chaos. “Cover the parcel. Now!”

The Death Trooper lifts me into his arms and I hold on to his broad neck.

More bombs go off simultaneously.

My eyes water.

Smoke-bombs.

Coughing and hurting I cling on.

Orson is on high alert, his fingers on the trigger. His narrowed eyes are trying to scan our surroundings.

We are in the middle of a battue, I am sure of it. My uncle enjoys the wanton slaughter of game at the end of a hunt. Therefore I get the impression that Saw Gerrera wants to drive us towards the temple. I suspect him waiting for us in the holy halls.

But before I can voice my suspicions to Orson there is a different kind of explosion.

Then a coating of dust and debris cakes everything.

“Putty explosives!” roars Orson through the smoke. “Really?”

Suddenly, blaster fire crackles through the air.

Perhaps this is no battue but a killer commando.

I hear a roar from Orson when he gets hit into his left shoulder.

The Death Trooper, who carries me, acts by pure instinct. In favour of his master he drops me like a hot potato.

“Ouch!” I yelp, but there is not much time for complaining.

More bombs go off.

I press myself to the ground.

“Fire works?” wonders Orson. “What the kriff?”

When it is silent again, I quickly sort out my limbs and struggle to my feet.

Some blood flows out of my right nostril. A thin spurt, but enough to let Orson panic. “You clumsy oaf!” he snarls. “She is hurt!”

The soldier gives me a brief scan. “Negative, Sir! But you are.”

Worried, Orson gazes at me, while his bodyguard takes care of his injury. “For freck's sake, 5537, cover her!”

“Negative, Sir! You are my priority.”

Orson rolls his eyes, but then his gaze is back on me. “Run, Ina!” he instructs me, love and despair in his eyes. “Run for cover! We'll catch up with you!”

********************************************************************

While I storm up the temple stairs I think of Lor, my husband-to-be. Of Tasia, my Loth-Cat. Of my flower garden. Of my new kindergarten job.

I must survive this mess.

All of a sudden feathers touch my head.

Then there is a considerable weight on my right shoulder.

In disbelief I freeze.

A convor blinks at me with its large owl eyes.

I must have hurt my head when the Death Trooper dropped me.

A laser beam hits the air inches away from me.

Realisation hits me. “Thank you!” I breathe towards my saviour.

The bird ruffles its feathers, chirping. Its tail swishes forth and back. Then it starts cleaning its gold and brown plumage with its beak. As if nothing of significance just happened.

I continue running.

The Force is with me.

With huge effort I open the metal door and slide through. It shuts behind me and my new companion with a loud bang.

Two energy pikes are pointed at us simultaneously.

The convor is air-born immediately and flies off with loud protest.

I do not even have the time to scream. In fear, I stare at the cloaked intruders. Tognathian mercenaries as far as I can tell. But they are not alone.

“Ah,” says a raucous male voice behind me. “The lover.”

********************************************************************

In no particular haste I turn around. I face a damaged black man. A wild look is in his eyes.

“Actually, I am not the lover. I am Krennic's former baby sitter,” I correct Saw Gerrera. “You have a wicked mind. Always keen on seeing nothing but evil in other persons, ever since your sister died. Skywalker didn't act wisely in teaching you”.

Confused, the extremist gazes at me. I use this to my advantage.

“And you are not better than Kalani when you try to bring me down with electro shocks,” I add, while adrenaline courses through me.

Gerrera frowns, but not for long.

Without warning I receive a slap across the face. I am knocked to the ground, but I manage to fall in a way that leaves my head unhurt.

“How dare you... compare me... with that... monster?” my attacker bellows and kicks me straight in the face.

“Because you have turned into a monster, too,” I dare to tell him, licking over my now split underlip. “This is about self-hatred, right? You have been trying to sever all contacts since Steela died, all that makes you human. Now you are also a Super Tactical Droid. Well done!”

In a quick move Gerrera gets an energy pike from one of his comrades. Before he can smash it down on my skull, an accented male voice calls out, _“May the Force of Others be with you!”_

********************************************************************

Grateful, I glance over to a guardian of the Whills, who just entered the scene. His tanned face is peaceful. The dark beard is as neatly trimmed like a Bonsai tree. His hands are hidden in the wide sleeves of his robes. The convor sits on his head, its wings stretched wide and hissing.

“Monk!” barks Gerrera, “I have... no business... with you. Just let us... get away... with... this woman here... and all... will be well.”

“This pilgrim here came to pray and you attacked her without reason.” A pair of brown almond eyes shows absolute calmness. “I want you to leave now and never return!”

The convor takes flight, as if to strengthen that sentiment. It circles Gerrera various time and, with a loud noise of satisfaction, pups right on his head.

“Bird!” he complaints.

The animal in question settles down on my skull, making threatening gestures with its wings again. I never expected so much loyalty.

Saw Gerrera gives his Tognathian mercenaries a sign not to intervene. There seems some decency left in him. “This woman... has sinned... for she is... with enemies... of the Republic,” he coughs, worn out by so much talking.

“I do not serve the Republic,” the warrior-monk replies matter-of-fact. “Only the Force. As for sin, none of us are without it.”

“Give her... to me!”

“Your way is not mine,” the guardian of the Whills announces. “Avoid rather than check, check rather than hurt, hurt rather than maim, maim rather than kill. For ALL life is of value... and no one has the right to take it away.”

Dark anger spreads in Gerrera's face. “Then you are... a fool. This woman... is part of a criminal conspiracy.”

“The way of my order is easy.” The warrior-monk smiles, his gaze entwined with mine. “Respect teaching, respect tutors, respect guidance, learn kindness, learn loyalty, learn about the Force. Why have you come here, daughter of Shiraya?”

He knows what my belief is, whom I serve.

I bow to him.

The words of the Sunset prayer of his community, a long time ago learned in my uncle's vast library, leave my mouth with ease and grace.

_“In darkness, cold._  
_In light, cold._  
_The old sun brings no heat._  
_But there is heat in breath and life._  
_In life, there is the Force._  
_In the Force, there is life._  
_And the Force is eternal.”_

His sigh cuts deep into my soul. “So you have come to announce the sunset of the Old Republic, Nagina.”

I nod, surprised that my birth name is known to him.

The convor flatters from his shoulder onto mine.

“Coming from your mouth this means that the 'Rule of the Two' has been installed already. That they are already in command.”

“What... are you... both... talking abou…t?” Gerrera huffs.

A quick succession of laser gun shots takes him and his men out. The blue rings that come with every salvo tells me that the weapons are set to stun only. Nobody inside this temple will die today.

A group of men comes forth, all dressed in the floating robes of the guardians of the Whills.

“Baze,” admonishes a man with blue almond eyes and a tan. “This was a time for action and not for Force philosophy.”

“There is always time for Force philosophy, Chirrut,” answers the warrior-monk back.

The one called Chirrut answers “Then there is also always time for a civilized cup of tea. Plus cookies.”

********************************************************************

On our way to the tea room something tucks at the edges of my consciousness. Like a bunch of children reaching out to a sleeve and pulling at it non-stop. Just to get attention attention.

“The kyber crystals,” I blurt out.

The convor makes a satisfied sound, rubbing its head against my neck.

Chirrut rushes aside to push a door open that is more massive than that of the temple entrance.

A beautiful glow spreads, like sun beams breaking through a dark rain cloud.

“We hardly know her,” protests a third monk.

The convor squawks to oppose him.

Baze places a firm hand on his brother's shoulder. _“Deal with evil through strength – but affirm the Good in man through trust. In this way we are prepared for evil, but we encourage Good.”_

Dry laughter comes forth from the man. _“And is Good our great reward for trusting?”_

Knowing the ancient dialogue they preform as master and student, I answer instead of Baze, _“In striving for an ideal, we do not seek rewards; yet trust does sometimes bring with it great reward-even greater than Good.”_

The convor chirps satisfied and starts self-cleaning again.

I quickly round up the wise teachings of the monk order. _“What is greater than Good? – Love.”_

“This woman is a kindergarten teacher for all that we know,” announces Baze to all his brothers. “Would she be an instrument of evil, she would not be able to work with children. Their young hearts look straight into the core of her being, like the kyber crystals do.”

I am shoved inside and the door is closed behind me.

Through tears in my eyes, I behold great beauty.

The convor raises into the air, making circles around me.

I sink to my knees and cry, feeling happy and sad alike.

Familiar words echo through my soul, shining into every corner of my being. “I am one with the Force and the Force is with me.”

I perceive a larger truth.

Whatever the unholy _trium virat_ – Sheev, Orson and Galen – have in mind with the crystals around me, they will not be instruments of evil. They are the will of the Force. Even if entire planets have to stop existing, there will be unity and peace in the end.

“For even suns die,” I whisper. “But the Force is eternal, bringing forth new life and hope again.”

 

**Translation from the Chandrilan rural dialect into Basic:**  
_G'day!_ = _Good morning!/ Hello!_  
_mate_ = _friend_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> Some lyrics of the song “I wake up” by Lions Head  
> A saying from Chan Buddhism  
> The online Philosophy section of the Shaolin Kung Fu.org  
> Precepts of Confucianism, Taoism and Zen as used in the show western adventure “KUNG FU” by channel ABC (1972-75)  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia
> 
> Inspirational song for this chapter:  
> the score “Orson Krennic Suite (Theme)” by Michael Giacchino (2016)


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still in working modus!

Chirrut Îmwe offers me a plate of round pastries that measure about the size of my palm. “Traditional Jedha moon-cakes,” he explains and flashes me a bright grin. “Try one!”

I am not really hungry, but politeness makes me take one of the cakes. They have beautiful ornaments. Something floral.

Enthusiastically, I take a bite.

My eyes widen as I taste something familiar. Something that is known to me from my early childhood days. “Lotus seed paste?”

“Blue lotus,” the warrior monk confirms and adds with a wink. “You need to relax a bit, you know. The universe can go on without you for a while.”

I stare at the cake in my hand, remembering all the other plants Sheev employed to keep me quiet as a baby: _cannabis sativa_ , _solanum_ , _genus valeriana_ , _papaver rhoeas_. He even tried opium and laudanum. Until my mother confronted him about it. That was the first time she ever screamed at him. The only time they quarrelled.

Chirrut Îmwe pours me a cup of green tea. There is a mischievous smile on his lips. “You have had your share of hardship already. With your honoured uncle being a Sith lord.”

“You might say so,” I groan.

“More reason to enjoy your moon-cake to the fullest,” the warrior monk suggests and bows lightly. “There is a legend from ancient times. It claims that these pastries were used to smuggle the secret plans for a rebellion.”

I snort like an eopie.

“You smuggled yourself to us today, Nagina.” A ripple of laughter fills the air. “For that, you deserve an entire plate full of moon-cakes.”

Sheepishly, I grin back at him.

Chirrut Îmwe places a hand on my knee. “Play the moments, pause the memories, stop the pain and rewind the happiness!”

We look each other in silent lucidity.

Occasionally there are moans and screams outside the tea room.

The other warrior-monks are busy taking care of those of Jedha's citizens who were hurt in the terrorist attack.

I suspect that Saw Gerrera and the two Tognathian mercenaries have taken advantage of the situation and sneaked out of the temple premises in the meantime.

“Today would have been the annual moon festival,” Baze Malbus, who has remained silent until now, cuts in. “The citizens celebrate it every year on the fifteenth day of the eighth month. But due to the bombings, it seems the festival is cancelled altogether.”

“It would be a pity to throw away all the moon-cakes,” I muse, and finish my cake with a sigh.

Soon, I start to feel more comfortable with my surroundings and a dreamy feeling kicks in.

“Is there something you would like to tell us?” Chirrut Îmwe asks, his pale blue eyes alight with mirth.

This man is as cunning as a desert fox. I must grant him that. Tricksters like him are essential to any contact with the sacred, which does not always come in a direct way.

I start laughing, loud and heartily.

My foster father insisted on the fact that people cannot pray until they have laughed. Laughter opens and frees one from rigid preconception. This is why he taught me Laughter Yoga. A concept that came into life in Theed almost two centuries ago.

Tears of joy stream over my face. Soon they make way for the right words.

While the fighting continues outside the Temple of the Whills, I tell the protectors of the kyber all that they need to know about my uncle Sheev.

********************************************************************

“The Sith are back,” Chirrut repeats for the sixth time in a row, staring at the large light-bow that rests in his lap. His usual smile is gone. “The Sith have returned.”

His best friend Baze puts his tea mug down. The only sign that he is getting impatient. “So Nagina just told us.”

“Her uncle, the Sith Emperor, will know that she shared her knowledge with us,” Chirrut mumbles. “Sooner or later he will come around to correct that mistake.”

“You can still shoot the messenger,” I suggest.

My self-irony makes Baze smile. “I do not like to shoot doves.”

“Doves?” I wonder.

“Brother Gaetano sent one of his best animals over to us in advance. Just in case you would have not made it here personally, Nagina.”

Each time I look into his brown eyes, I see the beauty of the Force emanating from Baze.

“As for our beloved Bathseba here,” he smiles, “Well let us say that she sent herself to watch over you. She is the oldest being in the temple.”

I gaze at the animal with love and respect. She blinks back, happiness in the large dark eyes.

Baze leans in on me. In a gesture of blessing, he places his thumb on the centre of my forehead. Exactly where the third eye – called _Agya chakra_ – is meant to be. “Remember the rule of our forefathers!”

I have no trouble recalling the right words.

_“Respect yourself, and everyone will respect you._   
_Understand yourself, and everyone will understand you._   
_There are mirrors all around you:_   
_Strive to see and understand yourself._   
_Strive to have the heart of the Force._   
_Stop doing bad things, only do good._   
_Do whatever you can to help others._   
_In these ways you help yourself._   
_Help yourself, and you help the universe.”_

Chirrut makes a guttural noise. “Wouldn’t you say it is time to bring Nagina to the washhouse?”

Only now I realize that my clothing is a complete mess of dirt and blood. But both men seem not to be overly alarmed by my state and, due to the influence of the blue lotus, I decide to not worry either.

********************************************************************

In the wash-house Baze and Chirrut help me to wash my hair with _cedrela_ leaves. This lightweight fragrant wood is believed to stimulate hair growth. I remember that Padmé Naberrie used it throughout her life.

After I manage the famous “battle maiden hair style”, Baze gives me a traditional _buyao_. The hairpin is adorned with movable flower branch-shaped pendants. “It belonged to one of our sisters who is not longer with us.”

Hesitantly, I accept the gift.

Chirrut throws away my ruined clothing and provides me with an entirely new outfit: a black _Kasaya_ robe. It makes me look like a protector of the kyber myself. I am also given a padded jacket to wear above my tunic.

Bathseba, who cruised around while I got dressed, settles down on my shoulder again. Her soft whistling tunes seem to mean that she approves.

But then I am startled when Baze starts to wrap the red scarf of the Enlightened Ones around my waist.

“Are you sure that… that… I... I can...”, I stutter.

“Nagina, you had the heart to warn Jedha of the storms that are to come,” Chirrut assures me, his laughter lines deepening. “For this alone you deserve to be a fellow guardian of the kyber, too.”

A large kyber crystal, still small enough to fit into the handle of a light sabre, is placed in my hand. It pulses like little star.

“This is not only for remembrance,” Baze states. “As a teacher you need to pass on the torch of wisdom. The Jedi are no more, which is a pity. And what is left of their order is scattered by the fury of...”

He is interrupted by Orson, who storms into the room. My self-appointed white knight is in his full Imperial regalia again. His cloak floats around him like a threatening cloud.

I quickly stuff the kyber crystal into my bra.

“They did not want to tell me where you are!” Orson fumes, bristling with dominance. “And, what... what are you wearing?”

The convor grumbles at him.

Orson points at my little companion, his features full of loathing. “Where did you find this... thing?”

“Actually, Bathseba found me and brought me into safety.”

“What comes next?” he flusters. “An eopie? A rancor? Do you want to have a frekin' animal farm on Lothal?”

“Orson,” I state, slightly embarrassed about his appallingly bad manners. “Meet Baze and Chirrut...”

He makes a swishing gesture with his left hand. “Ina, I have no time for pleasantries with humans or dumb animals. You have been attacked by a madman and his gang. I do not take such insults lightly.”

The convor flies off.

With just a few steps I am at his side and clinging to his waist. “Please be in a forgiving mood! Do it for me!”

Orson basically pants with rage at my suggestion. “Too late. Jedha is a crisis area. It needs government support.”

“Just because Gerrera stopped by in a brief attempt to assassinate you? Don't you think this is an overreaction on your part?”

“Ina! That brute split your lip. And I do not want to imagine what else he had in mind.”

I shrug his misgivings off. “It's my birthday tomorrow and I am in a forgiving mood.”

His gaze turns softer. “There are better presents that I can give you.”

Bathseba screeches.

“What about roasted bird with Chandrilan potatoes?” says Orson, while eyeing the convor. “Or a feather boa?”

“All I want is to go to my fosters and celebrate my forty-first birthday in their home. With all of my family, including you.” Then I add a word that will call him to order. A magical one. “Brother.”

He inhales sharply.

“Please!” I wheeze.

Baze and Chirrut sneak away, concerned looks in their eyes. But Bathseba stays, silently flying her rounds high above our heads.

“Why do I always feel good when I oblige you, Ina?” Orson asks, his gaze softer than his words.

********************************************************************

It costs me a lot of strength to distract Orson from the kyber crystals and the Gerrera issue. The Force mind trick works only on the weak-minded and I was never any good at it. As a kindergarten teacher I have just learned to be persuasive by natural means. Which is no match for Orson's stubbornness.

Together we walk to his military transport ship, a delta-class T-3C that awaits us right at the foot of the temple stairs.

While we walk down the long staircase, I hold Bathseba on my shoulder again. Earlier on, Baze told me that the convor wants to stay with me. The Force seems to will it. And who am I to argue against it?

“Are your men not coming with us?” I ask as innocently as possible.

“My Death Troopers have work to do,” Orson assures me with a smile that almost makes my heart stop. It is as wintry as the sky above Jedha.

Bathseba produces a mournful sound, and when I look towards her I spot the dagger-shaped line of capital ships gathering in the moon's orbit. Venator-class Star Destroyers, no doubt.

“There will be no massacre in the temple of the Whills?” I probe anxiously, while we walk unto the ramp.

“Of course not.” He does some eye rolling as if I just said something extremely stupid. “I do not want you to hate me for all eternity, Ina. Besides those men in there saved you. I owe them. And so does the Emperor.”

A Palpatine always pays his debts. Nobody knows that better than I do. But I see it as atonement and not an act of revenge. In this Sheev and I differ profoundly.

********************************************************************

Not much later Orson leans over the controls and sets the flight coordinates for Chandrila. While he does his calculations I fondle Bathseba, who uses her beak to stroke me back continuously.

When the course is set properly, Orson reaches across the seat and curls his hand around mine, lacing our fingers together. Then he starts singing,

_“You don't want to hurt me,_   
_But see how deep the bullet lies._   
_Unaware I'm tearing you asunder._   
_Ooh, there is thunder in our hearts._

_Is there so much hate for the ones we love?_   
_Tell me, we both matter, don't we?_   
_You, it's you and me._   
_It's you and me won't be unhappy...”_

His voice fades into silence.

Warmed by the effort Orson just made for me, I smile. “Was that my birthday song already?”

He returns the smile. While it broadens, he relaxes visibly, allowing some of his tension to ebb from his body. “Nope, an attempt to ease the tension around here. Singing instead of snarling at you.”

“I appreciate it.”

“And you owe me a couple of uneventful days, birthday girl,” he says. “I am sure I have at least a dozen more grey hairs on my head since yesterday.”

********************************************************************

For the rest of the remaining time is a peaceful flight. Orson whistles while sitting behind the controls. I recognize some traditional drinking songs from Chandrila. But then his comlink beeps and he leaves the flight cabin over-hastily.

It is obvious to me that he needs to discuss something 'classified' out of my hearing range.

The ears of a kindergarten teacher are a miracle though. I gather enough scraps of the conversation together to know that there is some trouble. It is caused by the crystallographer who used to be his school chum during the 'Futures Program' on Brentaal: Galen Erso.

I only can hope that Boba is already busy with his investigations. Perhaps I can chat him up to contact either Bail Organa or Mon Mothma about it. The two senators worked closely together with their colleague Padmé, when they formed an opposition against my uncle.

With a sigh, I lean back in my flight seat. Bathseba, who sits on the head piece, hops into my hair.

I hate being a conspirator. This is something I was not born to. But it is a necessity now.

“Never play with a Sith lord!” I tell myself while gazing ahead of me. “Your soul is at stake.”

“Really?” says Orson and plunks back into his pilot seat.

“Even when you think you have the higher ground, you are in deep, deep trouble,” I answer truthfully.

He leans in, his face inches away from mine.

Bathseba starts hissing.

“Stop it!” Orson warns the animal. “Or I'll pluck you alive for your last journey!”

Protectively, I reach out for Bathseba, who jumps down on my right underarm with gracefulness. “Don't you dare!” I say to Orson in a serious kindergarten teacher tone. “She is my friend.”

And what about me?” he sulks.

“You are my brother,” I sigh.

“It bears repeating,” he says, a sly smile on his lips. “For I like the sound of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> Some song lyrics of “Running up that hill” by Kate Bush (1985)  
> A Zen Buddhism quote  
> Ben Mendelsohn's own words during an interview  
> The movie “Labyrinth”, directed by Jim Hendson and produced by George Lucas (1986)  
> A Jewish saying  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia 
> 
> Inspirational song for this chapter:  
> the score “Time” by Hans Zimmer for the movie “Inception”


	25. Chapter 25

When we reach the air space above Chandrila, I ask casually, “Can we take some time to meet your dad before walking over to my fosters’?”

“The old man won't be in,” Orson assures me darkly.

“Why?” I inquire, stroking the puffed up feather ball in my lap.

“If you really need to know: prostate gland cancer. He is on and off his radiation therapy.”

This is why all my recent letters have not been answered yet. I should have known better. “Then we need to visit him,” I decide.

“Whatever for?” Orson raises an eyebrow. “His health insurance company made me pay his bills the past two years. I have done my share.”

“Your share?” I repeat, a shiver in my voice. “He is your parent.”

“The man who was involved in my procreation, I know.” There is only soulless cold in his gaze. “I owe him nothing.”

“Orson, he is your loving father,” I plead, while I glimpse Chandrila's two main continents beneath us.

“Doing the reconciling thing again?” He huffs. “You are the only family that I ever had. Please get that into your head!”

“Families cannot be chosen like items on a lunch menu,” I try to reason.

“Oh yeah? Try me! I can do whatever I want in life.”

I stare down at the gold-brown plumage in my lap.

To be a convor must be beautiful. The Force is the only master they have to answer to. Obligations can therefore be chosen freely. The heart is the compass, unfailing and true. Worries are far away.

“Ina, you of all people must be aware that I probably didn't come from a particularly great template for relationship building,” Orson says, cutting into my day dreams. “The vagaries of the job don't help either. Besides, I don't do talky-talky, chummy-chummy.”

I remain stubborn. “He is your father.”

“When I needed the old man, because my mother gave in to her pregnancy brain, he was busy with his apple trees.”

“Your mother suffered from a severe depression after you were born,” I try to convince him.

“I was rejected and neglected when it mattered most,” Orson spits out, his jaw tight. “The only faces above my crib where yours and those of your fosters.”

In order to invoke energy, my fingers switch into the _Prana Mudra_. “You will fly me to your father now!”

He closes his eyes for some brief seconds. When he looks at me again, there is great weariness in his eyes.“I have reordered time, I have turned the world upside down, and I have done it all for you! I am exhausted from living up to your expectations of me.”

To hear Orson quote from 'Labyrinth', one of my favourite childhood books, makes me smile. He tried his best to prepare for the job of being my guardian. But I have Palpatine blood in my veins anyway. We are of cruel stock. “Let us buy some yellow roses in the hospital shop.”

Orson does not look happy. “Why yellow?”

“Yellow roses stand for friendship or devotion. Your dad taught me that a long time ago.”

********************************************************************

Agrippa Doran Krennic and I have been pen-pals these past decades, but he never mentioned his illness to me. His skin is as transparent as parchment paper. I can see the stark outlines of his skull. He is more dead than alive.

I am angry with Orson for not telling me about his father's bad state.  
“N...a...g...i...n...a!” the fruit farmer breathes out. He raises a thin hand to summon me closer.

When I step forward, I hear Orson hiss from somewhere behind me, “There is no way I am saying hello!”

I spin around to give him a levelled look. “Then leave and take your bad attitude with you!”

“You want to kick me out of this room?” Disbelief is evident in his voice.

“If I must!” I say bluntly. “Sheev taught me Krav Maga.”  

He shoves his hands into his belt, his anger pushed away by curiosity. “Why would he do that?”

I mean to answer Orson that empowerment and resilience are very important for children, but I think better of it. He may be a genius in many things he does, but there is a great discrepancy between his intellectual and social abilities.

A slight frown mars his face. “Did you ever use your knowledge?”

“About twenty years ago I managed to bring Tarkin down effectively,” I grin, flooded by memories.

“Tarkin as in Wilhuff Tarkin?”

“Out! Now,” I order Orson with a calm dignity, usually reserved for Sheev's minions and naughty children.

He huffs at me and takes his leave.

I start moving towards the sickbed again.

“Y… o… u...” Agrippa is overwhelmed by tears.

I race to the fruit farmer and give him a gentle hug, feeling his tears through my robe. For a long time I do nothing but hold him against me. He feels so frail.

Orson finally has the decency to close the door.

“Stayawayfrommyson!” Simon Krennic wails, his words melting together now. “Heisdangerous.”

“I am not afraid,” I try to convince him.

“Butyoushouldbe.”

I frame his wrinkled face with both hands. “Agrippa, I bet Gita and Chetan never told you who my maternal grandfather was?” I kiss his brow and let go of him again. “That man unwillingly related me to an even greater monster. His first-born, now Emperor Palpatine.”

He gasps for air like a colo claw fish out of water.

The door opens with a loud hiss.

“That was very nice, I am sure of it,” Orson sneers while sauntering towards us. “But Ina is my play date for the rest of her stay. Not yours, old man.”

“I am not quite finished in here,” I announce in a dignified manner. “I first needed to reassure your father that the Force is greater than science.”

“Righty ho!” Orson sneers. “A private 'show and tell' session. During your holidays. I should tell your new employer.”

While Agrippa sinks back into his pillows, I squeeze his left hand reassuringly. “Your son will soon be sorry in one way or another!”

“Don't you dare to make decisions for me!” Orson grumbles.

“Vice versa!” I say and step to the window to open it.

Bathseba flies straight to the old patient and hops onto his belly, which is covered by a white blanket. With a loud chirp, she closes her wings.

“Great, in an attempt to show me how Midi-chlorians work you let the flea bag contaminate a hospital room,” Orson points out. “You know how fragile the health of a cancer patient is, right?”

“Oh ye of little faith!” I tut.

“Just checking.”

The convor starts to march up and down the fruit farmer's crotch.

“Miracle healing? Through owl poop?” His brows are like thunder clouds, his eyes like lightning. “In some cultures and on some planets you would be burned as a witch right now.”

“Then do your worst, Lieutenant Commander Krennic!” I stretch my arms out wide. “Fire at will.”

“I never will pull the trigger on you, silly, but another Imperial officer might, one fine day.” He shakes his head disdainfully. “A krav maga attack on Tarkin. You really have a way with people.”

Having said that, Orson marches out of the room as if for a military show.

********************************************************************

Convorees are popular as pets throughout the galaxy, but only a very few people know that they are messengers of the Force itself.

“Is… there… hope?”

I smile indulgently. “There is always a new hope, Agrippa.”

Bathseba opens her wings. Light glitters in her feathers.

“She will not let a good man die,” I assure him. “Not when so many lights have been diminished the past weeks.”

“Pretty… bird,” the old man exclaims, and tries to stroke her.

“Bathseba is a guardian of the Whills,” I let Agrippa know. “But she chose to leave Jedha and help in other places, where she is needed more. My uncle and your son are working together in an attempt to destroy the faith. They will not succeed. Because you are a believer and so am I.”

********************************************************************

When I face Orson outside the hospital room again, he scowls at me like a Gamorrean. There is even some spit in the corners of his mouth. “Is this your revenge?”

“Revenge?” I ask straight back. “For what?”

His eyes are distant, almost vacant. “Revenge on me for turning your life upside down. Because I read all your letters to my father last week.”

Dread knots my throat. “You mistake me for a Sith. They are into revenge. I serve the light side.”

“Ina, I never cared for sport matches,” he says in a curt voice.

“The struggle between the dark side and the light is not a sport...”

“Force fanatics do not interest me.”

“Just their kyber crystals. And my uncle has all the big ones, now that he has raided Coruscant and Jedha.”

A nurse rushes by, frowning at us.

“Why don't you hang up a note on the blackboard downstairs?” Orson's voice is like acid now. “Just to make sure everybody knows about my likes and dislikes. Or even better, make the blueprints of my project public. Via the HoloNet.”

I cannot believe that I just made him say that in cold rage.

Of course 'Project Celestial' has blueprints like every structure and building Orson ever came up with. That gives me an idea.

I lean in on him and give him a cheeky kiss. That deflates him again.

“We struggle like real siblings, don't we?” he says in a low voice.

I just look at him.

He reaches out for me and draws me into his arms. “I don't want to fight, Ina.”

“Me neither.”

Orson leans his chin on my head. “Will it always be thus?”

“Maybe,” I add for consideration.

A shiver runs through his lean body. Then he says, “Let me fly you to your fosters now. Otherwise you will be late for your own birthday.”

********************************************************************

The first person to greet me is little Mara. Like a whirlwind she sweeps over the veranda, down the staircase and towards the ship. The landing ramp is still in the process of lowering down when she basically flies into my arms.

I am happy that Orson is still inside the cockpit to shut down the main power. This way he is not able to see the girl's Force Leap.

“Nagina, Nagina! I felt you arrive hours ago. Why did you not come earlier? Mom made a cake for you when I told her. Oh, I missed you so much. Where have you been?”

I sink down on my knees and just hold on to Mara, enjoying her company as much as the flow of her words. Her presence is like that of an open hearth, warm, comforting and homely. The wind plays with her red mane, making it dance like little flames.

“Is that your ship? Are you alone? I feel something strange on-board. What is it?”

She frowns when Orson comes to stand behind us.

I can tell what this antipathy is. It is not the first time I’ve seen it rising so quickly in his presence. There is something about him that either inspires awe or loathing. It is clearly the latter for Mara.

“Mom said we can share a bed,” the girl stresses, glee rising in her voice. “Oh please, let us do that! I liked sleeping next to you during the kindergarten pyjama party last year.”

Now Orson clears his throat, but we both ignore him, too consumed with one another.

“Did you bring something for me?” Mara asks, hopeful.

I let one of my hands dive into my cleavage, fumble around in my left bra cup and produce a small item. “Keep it safe, keep it hidden! You might like to use it when you are much, much older.”

Without opening my hand, I give the precious object to Mara. Her eyes widen, when her fingers close around it. A single tear of joy runs down her cheek.

“This is really for me?” she breathes, awe written all over her small face.

“My friend Bathseba says it is.”

The convor shoots out of the ship, as if on cue.

“Oh!” beeps Mara, her jade eyes as round as her mouth. “A messenger of the Force.”

“Just keep ignoring me!” complains Orson and starts walking towards the house. “For the record: I will not fend off your nightmares tonight, Ina.”

His cape wallows behind him like an angry cloud.

“Face them alone!” he threatens me.

“Listen!” I whisper to my former kindergarten ward. “Normally, the crystal chooses the Jedi. But we are both not Jedi. Their age is over. For now, anyway. Just stay true to yourself! This is all I ask of you.”

Eagerly, Mara nods. “I will not disappoint you.”

“This is not about me,” I correct the girl. “This is all about you and your place in this universe. There is an old saying on Jedha.”

She continues to gaze at me in silence.

_“Watch your thoughts, they become words._   
_Watch your words, they become actions._   
_Watch your actions, they become habits._   
_Watch your habits, they become your character._   
_Watch your character, it becomes your destiny.”_

Bathseba settles down on my shoulder, rubbing her feathery head against my right cheek.

“When you start to build your own light sabre, please remember...”

“Nagina!”

Mara and I turn our heads towards the farm house.

Waving lovingly, my foster father stands on the front porch side by side with Orson.

********************************************************************

Chetan Anil, social pedagogue and hobby gardener from Naboo, always had the ability to create a sense of normality for me. Under his care I have grown into the person that I was always meant to be. Slightly damaged by the past, but able to live a fulfilling life.

“Hey, dad!” I wheeze when I finally stand in front of him.

His blue eyes twinkle with delight. He is about 1.8 metres high, which makes him just one centimetre bigger than Orson. “Hi, darling girl!”

Standing close to my foster father I can see that there are many threads of silver in his brown hair. Fascinated, I reach out for them.

“I’ve stopped counting those,” he laughs.

Chetan is about Sate's age, but he looks much younger and, I must say, much more healthy. Working in child care can do that to a person. Children keep their care takers young.

We hug. Good and long and hard.

“I help Mom!” Mara lets us know.

He smiles about her enthusiasm. “Good idea, sunshine,” he acknowledges his youngest foster child.

The girl bounces into the house.

“How nice of you to make it on time for your own birthday,” he laughs.

“This is not my doing,” I give him to consider, and incline my head towards my companion. “Orson was so kind as to drop me off.”

“Oh, it is more than just a drop off, Mister Anil,” my eager guardian cuts in. “We are actually staying on Chandrila for a couple of days. If you will have us.”

I can see that Chetan is preparing a somewhat peppery answer and so I throw in quickly, “Where is Mom?”

“In the kitchen.” The eyes of my foster father never leave Orson's face. “A little bird told her that you would show up today.”

Mara. She must have felt me coming. The Force is indeed strong in her.

To my surprise Orson cuts in, “I better offer Mistress Anil my help, too.”

“You might like to change into something more comfortable first, lad.” My foster father raises an eye brow. “That Imperial uniform of yours looks like a real challenge for any dry cleaner. It would be a pity if things were to get dirty... in the kitchen.”

The two men stare at one another like two local bulabirds ready to rumble.

Finally, Orson gives Chetan a curt nod. “Of course, Mister Anil.”

“Mister Anil was my father and he has been gone half a century already. Just call me by my first name.”

I can almost feel the electrical charge when they shake hands.

Then Orson leaves us in order to retrieve our luggage from the ship.

“Why is Krennic junior flying a military transport?” whispers my foster father, while he hugs me gently. “Did he bring an entire occupation army with him?”

“No, he left his six body guards behind on Jedha,” I answer, staring ahead of me.

“A man as unpopular as him would need those, of course.” Chetan narrows his eyes. “But why, in the Name of the Force, were you on Jedha? Your last message said that you were off to Scarif.”

“You taught me that it is worthwhile to fight for freedom, dad.” I bite my lip, knowing there is no point in hiding anything from him.

“Sheev will not take such an interference lightly.”

“Then let him come and discuss that face to face with me.” Tears dwell in my eyes. “I will not stand down while the entire galaxy is on fire.”

“Of course not.” My foster father puts his arms around my waist. “But I wish it were not the Krennic boy watching over you.”

“It can't be helped,” I sniff into his chest.

“You should see what he did to his father's apple orchard very recently. Took a canister of combustive agent and a flame thrower to it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> A Jewish proverb  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia 
> 
> Inspirational song for this chapter:  
> The score “The glade, part II” from the Soundtrack “The Last of the Mohicans” (1992) by Trevor Jones & Randy Edelmann


	26. Chapter 26

The news that Orson has destroyed one of my favourite spots on Chandrila makes me flop into the canopy swing. My heart is low. I force myself to remain seated and to gather my composure.

“All of the trees?” I ask, my voice quavering. “Even the one right next to the Krennic farm house?”

Chetan takes in a deep breath. I can tell from his face that he is considering hard what to say next. He never speaks lightly in dire situations, but is truthful and authentic. “I know you love Agrippa's son like a little brother, but he is a villain of the worst kind.”

I wipe my nose with the palm of my right hand. “Even Orson needs a little bit of affection once in a while. He needs me.”

“And you need normal people around you. Not control freaks like him.” My foster father takes my left hand. His thumb strokes soothingly over my dorsum. “Besides, do you really think that he can fend off your uncle’s new Sith apprentice?”

I let my head sink, staring at the floor boards. “There is a dark acolyte already? That was quick. Poor Dooku. It seems he was just a stand-in for somebody else.”  
During my night in Sheev's apartment I had come to know the specifics of the count's demise. It still amazes me that my uncle made Skywalker do it. But then again it is one of his specialities to corrupt others’ morals.

“Your mother swears that she heard somebody in the background the last time she spoke with Sheev. Somebody who was more a machine than a being of flesh and blood. He had a sort of iron lung.”

I gaze into his kind eyes. “Perhaps Mace Windu survived his fall from the window?”

He shakes his head. “Sheev never liked that man. I would say he chose someone completely different. Someone we would never expect. He always favoured the underdogs. Folk like Gallius Rax.”

The thought of the Jakku-born youth makes my stomach roll. I dislike him more than Tarkin.

In the distance, I notice Orson leaving the ship again. He is wearing civilian clothing.

“That was quick,” curses Chetan.

“Please stay polite!” I beg him. “Perhaps it is because of the Asperger’s Syndrome he suffers from.”

My foster father flashes a joyless grin. “Orson has more than just one fault. Years of drug abuse have not helped.”

I hang my head and my shoulders.

“If you need to talk, the door to our bed chamber will not be barred tonight,” he suggests.

“I am turning forty-one tomorrow,” I protest under laughter, imagining how it would be to squeeze my oversized body between Chetan and Gita.

“But you will never stop being our child,” he assures me. “And perhaps we have a present for you. One that we do not want Orson to see.”

That makes me curious. “What is it?”

“You might find out in the morning. 'Til then it is a surprise. There were some delivery problems, but as soon as we heard about your arrival, we made a request.”

********************************************************************

My foster mother standing in front of her cookery pots is a heart-warming sight for me. “How nice of you to bring our Nagina around,” says Gita Anil with a bright smile.

“Her special birthday wish was... kyber crystal... clear to me. Around her, one becomes a bit of a mind reader.”

Orson looks smug while saying thus. On board he has put on a fresh new uniform. As far as I can tell, it is a gala uniform.

The statement he is making by his dress choice is overpowering. I wish that he would have been more subtle. At times he can be like a sledge hammer, driving a message in with all his might and not caring about the consequences.

While a happy Mara clings to me and the rest of my youngest foster siblings stand around me in awe, Chetan decides to pose some questions to the neighbour boy he used to know well. “So you are with the Empire now, Orson?”

“Aren't we all?” His blue predatory eyes scan the face of my foster father. “When the Republic was attacked by the Jedi Order from within, only the wisdom of Sheev Palpatine saved this galaxy. Of course I serve him without question.”

Chetan has a lot to say about that, I can tell that from the way his shoulders are set, but a quick check of my face softens his ambitions. “And pray, what is your function?”

“He is an engineer and networks with colleagues,” I rush to say, hoping that my foster father can decipher the undercurrents in my words.

“Still buildings things, I see.” Something shifts in his eyes. “I hope you are more into architecture than weapons.”

Orson flashes Chetan a smile. “Of course,” he purrs. “We all learn from our dire experiences, don't we?”

Gita comes to the rescue. “I have a cake in the oven,” she says. “A Lamington. Why don't you make the tea water, Orson, while Nagina and I set the coffee table? Chetan, can you pluck some flowers with the children? Some fresh air would do you good.”

The prospect of sponge cake paints a real smile on Orson's features. “Yes, ma'am!” he beams and storms towards our kitchen.

“Nagina?” whispers my foster father.

I take his hand and press it lightly. “Not now. Let us enjoy our reunion as long as it may last! That is my only birthday wish.”

Chetan reaches out for my right cheek and cups it, full of love. “You are right.”

A small face peeks up at me.

“Can I paint a picture for you?”

Mara's green eyes are shining bright in the afternoon sun.

“Of course,” I answer.

Soon there is a little discussion among the rest of the present children about who will go plucking flowers and who will stay to produce presents for my upcoming birthday.

Two groups form and little feet run off. Chetan runs after the one that zooms outside.

Mara remains in the hall for some heart beats then she announces, “I get you some pretty flowers and some stinking nettles for Orson.”

When her red mane can no longer be seen, I find my voice again. “Any flashbacks? Home sickness for Coruscant?”

Gita shakes her head. “She has accepted the full truth of her mother's sudden demise.”

I close my eyes, but some tears flow anyway. “Good.”

“Mara is strong, Nagina. You and her mother made her that.”

I hang my head. “Sheev is responsible for this. I don't know how, but I am sure of it.”

“He is not behind it. I read it in his shocked eyes when he brought her here personally.”

My foster mother is good at judging the character of others. Even Sheev cannot lie to her.

“It was a burglar,” she moves on. “During her night shift she caught him doing industrial espionage and theft.”

“Which company?” I enquire curiously. “Did my uncle tell you?”

“LiMerge.”

That name makes my throat tight. “That is his one of his pets. A holding company head-quartered on Tythe,” I mumble.

It had never occurred to me that she had been in Sheev's service. That she had been one of his night watchmen.

During the last official meeting that we had about Mara's personal development, she had told me that she had been thinking to leave the personal protection sector for a while. There was a company in the Works that would pay her three times more and she would have two evenings off per week.

“Sheev showed me holos of the poor woman's corpse. It appeared that a light saber had stabbed her straight through the heart.”

My breath slows down to a minimum. “Does my uncle happen to know the name of the burglar?”

“If you ever asked me about it, I was to name a man called Tholme.”

I sink down on the lowest step of the staircase that leads to the second level of the house. “A Jedi master who served in both the Stark Hyperspace War and the Clone Wars.”

Villains have minions. Hard-working people who work hard to keep their families well fed. To be able pay their rent and other bills.

“Please never, ever tell Mara!” Tears shimmer in my eyes. “Until now she has adored the Jedi order.”

“Of course not,” she assures me and joins me on the stairs. “What made you think straight away it was your uncle who killed the woman?”

After a while I find the courage to tell her. “My friend at Child Protection Services informed me that babies and toddlers keep disappearing on Coruscant. All of them Force-sensitive like Mara,” I say. “As if Sheev wants to recruit an army. He is planning something horrible.”

“Daughter,” Gita says to me in an urgent tone of voice. “You cannot stand up against his crimes all the time. Let it go! Live your own life! Try not to be the only light to the mighty shadow he casts.”

Orson walks around the corner, making it impossible for me to answer my foster mother. “I took the liberty of setting the coffee table in the meantime,” he announces with unhidden pride.

********************************************************************

As I lie down on the bed to rest a bit, Bathseba politely knocks against the window. I get up to let her in and we huddle down on the bed together. She stretches out her wings and bathes me in her healing power.

“Thank you,” I whisper as softly as a prayer, a tear rolling from my right eye.

She blinks in quick succession, love shining in her avian eyes.

I remember an ancient text that I once came across in my uncle's library on Coruscant.

“Love is patient and is kind; love doesn't envy. Love doesn't brag, is not proud, doesn't behave itself inappropriately, doesn't seek its own way, is not provoked, takes no account of evil; doesn't rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.”

The fact is that I love Sheev despite all that happened. Even have a place in my heart for Orson.

More and more tears come forth.

Bathseba starts to make sounds of comfort.

“I know what you did for me.” I sniffle. “You left the temple. Don't you know that I am familiar with the legend, too? You are the last convor of Jedha. Now the temple of the Whills is doomed. And with it the crystals, the guardians and the people.”

The animal looks at me serenely.

“They say that there is no death, but the Force. The road to death can be hard and painful, though.”

Unblinking, the pair of ancient eyes stares back at me.

“I do believe in the Force, oh I do. But I am a weak human being. Neither an initiate of the Whills nor a trained Jedi knight.”

There is no reproach, just a knowing glance.

“I am afraid all the time, Bathseba. If I could, then I would just run away. Into the Unknown Regions, and never come back. But there is no hiding from Sheev. He knows exactly where I am all the time. Our souls are synchronised after the incident in the wine cellar.”

She listens in complete silence.

“Death is the only means to sever the bond between us,” I sob, overwhelmed by emotions.

The bird gazes on.

“But I am not ready to die yet. I just meet Lor. He is so wonderful. After Barin died, I thought I would never learn to care for any man again. Even lost myself in depression. But I had my work and constantly sought ways to make amends for Sheev.” I place a hand on my fast-beating heart. “To see Lor walk out of my home tears me apart every time. I need to be so strong for him.”

Bathseba places one of her wings directly on my face, covering my eyes.  
“I can't sleep,” I protest, for there are so many other things I would like to tell her.

Soft feathers press against my skin and an unprecedented tiredness washes me away.

********************************************************************

When I wake up again, it is already dark outside and the window is wide open. The curtains move lightly in the evening wind.

Orson sits next to me on the bed, giving his best to keep a respectful distance. “I did not dare to wake you, so I let you sleep on,” he explains.

“How long have you been watching me?”

He switches on the night lamp. “I came back just now. That animal is worse than a clawbird I once came across on Geonosis.”

That makes me curious. “Geonosis? Whatever got you to that inhospitable place?”

His counter-question is no surprise to me. “Would you like to join us for dinner?”

I smile at his attempt to mask the fact that I have come too close to a secret concerning his beloved project. “Sure,” I say.

He helps me to get up. “Would you like to put on something new?”

“You cannot stand seeing me in this outfit, right?”

“The red sash reminds me too much of Lyra Erso, Galen's wife. She is almost as religious as you are.”

There is a spark in his eyes that makes me shiver. “You don't like her very much, do you?”

“Let us say she is a constant distraction for her husband.” He makes a face. “It could very well be that she runs the risk of coming under fire one day.”

I crook my head. “Orson, it sounds like you want to shoot her.”

“Oh, do not worry! I have men who can do that for me.”

Worry freezes me to the spot. “She is a civilian, not an enemy of the state.”

“Ina.” He places his hands on my shoulders. “Do not worry about other people all the time! It will cause you ugly worry lines.”

“I know about the trees,” I prompt.

“Ah, your fosters told you.” He smirks. “I am sorry that I eradicated your favourite apple tree that day, too.”

“This is all that you have to say about the matter? That you are sorry?”

He leans forward and plants a kiss on my brow. “In this case I really am. It was a proud tree. In spring it had the loveliest blossoms of them all. In its shade you read me my first fairy tales, my first adventure stories.”

There is laughter from outside. Familiar laughter of a voice that I heard months ago.

We both storm towards the window.

“No!” complaints Orson. “This was not the deal that we made! She said it would be an informal family dinner.”

“But that is my family down there on the lawn.” I clap into my hands enthusiastically, counting two dozen faces that are dear to me.

Tonight we are going to celebrate past midnight, it seems, and therefore straight into my birthday.

“Belch? She invited frecking Berch Teller?” Orson gurgles.

“Don't worry!” I pat his shoulder. “I won't let him beat you up ever again.”

“Nagina, your uncle will not sanction this party.”

“Then call him right now and tell him that he can come, too, if he dares.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> 1 Corinthians 13:4-8  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia 
> 
> Inspirational song for this chapter:  
> The score “Extremely loud and incredibly close” from the identically named soundtrack (2012) by Alexandre Desplat


	27. Chapter 27

None of my foster siblings had a happy childhood until Child Care Services sent them to Gita and Chetan Anil. They managed the impossible. They turned all of us into social beings with a purpose in life. All except one.

It still pains me to think of 'Bay', born as Baydo Chasdy. He is doing time in prison for being a con man and forger. Recently, he has been moved to the planet Wobani. The working camp there is known for its cruelty.

Crix brought the entire matter to my attention about six weeks ago, while doing research for one of his missions.

I have tried to talk to Sheev about it, but he told me that 'Prisoner 1827' was not his concern. My foster brother had angered the wrong people with his last con.

With no warning, Mara wraps her arms around my legs, almost making me lose my balance. “Want a shortbread finger?” she asks, trying to look innocent.

Of course she feels my inner distress. More than anybody else in the room.

I pat her head. “Please get me the entire plate and we will share!”

Grinning, Dravits approaches. He is in a joyous mood and that is seldom so for him. His past as a child soldier on Pendar III makes most people see him as hard and unapproachable. Only among us, his foster family, he allows himself to show his true feelings. He can be very compassionate with the things he believes in.

Berch, a loveable prankster, joins the three of us.

Soon we all are engaged in a nice conversation.

Mara squeezes against me like a Loth-cat and I pick her up, hugging her against my chest. She is still but a fly weight as they would say in boxing. Yet mentally she has grown immensely the past weeks. It is all in her bright eyes.

The demanding tunes of a piano cause all conversation in the living-room to stop.

Orson.

The guitar is his favourite instrument, but he also knows how to play a harmonica and any type of keyboard.

From the corner of my eyes I can see how Ahetnigac pales. For her delicate lekku the dark, fierce melody must seem like a series of physical punches.

When Orson starts singing his voice is even more ruthless than his playing.

_“And if somebody hurts you I wanna fight,_   
_But my hands been broken, one too many times_   
_So I use my voice, I'll be so f... rude_   
_Words they always win, but I know I'll lose”_

I gasp for air, while he continues to beat the piano keys like a lunatic.

_“And I'll sing a song, that'd be just ours,_   
_But I sang 'em all to another heart_   
_And I wanna cry I wanna learn to love,_   
_But all my tears have been used...”_

Berch interrupts the performance by ramming the piano lid down. Straight on Orson's fingers. “Play something more cheerful, you frecking idiot!” my foster brother complains.

This is worse than the cake incident during my sixteenth birthday. Never has their hostility been more visible.

With tears in my eyes I gape at them, setting Mara down on the floor.

Ahetnigac hurries towards me, her lekku swinging back and forth in concern.

I hide my eyes behind my right hand. “He wants to have me all by himself. Like King Haggard wanted his unicorns.”

Crix is in hearing range, but does not want to come closer. I love him even more for his consideration, for his reserve.

Most people in this room know what happened in that wine cellar so long ago, but not all. There are also friends and acquaintances from far away – Alderaan and Naboo. Although, no Coruscanti connections of mine are around. They have been kept off the guest list in order not to alert Sheev immediately.

My energy level drops drastically, leaving me small and overwhelmed in the aftermath.

My twi'lek foster sister wraps one of her lekku around my shoulder, draws me closer to her chest with her hands.

“This is why I wanted to leave Scarif so quickly.” The words leave my mouth like water bubbles, slow and wobbly. “At times I feel like I am drowning in his affection, you know.”

While I talk I am not sure whether I am referring to Orson or Sheev. They are both notorious.

“I can hardly breathe,” I confess.

Ahetnigac smiles, as her left lekku tickles my nose. She breaks skin contact and walks towards the piano. Milow joins her.

“After so much so much excitement,” the professional musician announces, “It's time for some softer tunes.”

“Hear, hear!” calls Dravits and claps his hands.

“The following song is not an original lullaby,” my twi'lek foster sister moves on. “But it has been sung to many of us by Nagina, when we were tucked up in bed.”

A hand comes down on my back, touches the point where my _Muladhara_ – the root chakra – lies. “Just lean into me and breathe, _aanor_ ,” Crix whispers. “ _Love._ You have been through much worse.”

Gratefully, I do his bidding.

“There you go,” my Corellian foster brother moves on, keeping his voice low. “We are in charge of the party business now and not Krennic. He can spoil somebody else’s birthday in the future. This is your night. We want you to enjoy it.”

As I look up into his firm face, he nods briefly. But not to me.

Gracefully, Ahetnigac reopens the lid and Milow starts playing a melody well known to me. He does not need sheet music.

_“When the last eagle flies over the last crumbling mountain_   
_And the last lion roars at the last dusty fountain_   
_In the shadow of the forest though she may be old and worn_   
_They will stare unbelieving at the last unicorn”_

Her voice is beautiful. Clan Syndulla back on Ryloth would be proud of her.

Shortly after the Battle of Naboo Ahetnigac was abducted from her home world. She was sold into slavery straight away.

_“When the first breath of winter through the flowers is icing_   
_And you look to the north and a pale moon is rising_   
_And it seems like all is dying and would leave the world to mourn_   
_In the distance hear the laughter of the last unicorn”_

When she was able to escape the Hutt crime lord who had purchased her, the Force had a guardian angel waiting for her.

“I'm alive, I'm alive”

A very influential clerk of intergalactic Child Protection Services took care of her case.

_“When the last moon is cast over the last star of morning_   
_And the future has passed without even a last desperate warning_   
_Then look into the sky where through the clouds a path is torn_   
_Look and see her how she sparkles, it's the last unicorn”_

Jord Shif is none other than the twin sister of Lufta, who served as the Education Regent in the Naboo Royal Advisory Council under Queen Amidala's rule.

_“I'm alive, I'm alive”_

It was also Jord who was present during a certain child crisis conference at the Theed Main Hospital about thirty-eight years ago. The case was that of a three year old girl who had been found in a waste container.

Crix continues massaging the area of my root chakra.

Survival.

Grounding.

Stability.

Gravitation drawing into a point of trust.

Survival.

Self preservation.

“Thank you,” I sigh.

“You are welcome, Nagina,” he mouths back softly.

Jord has kept an eye on me ever since my trials with Grandfather Cosinga. Actually, she stands watch over all the children that she comes across, and has passed some of them on to my fosters. Sheev tried everything to make her retire, but she remains in office. Simply defying him with her good health and many connections.

While everybody applauds Ahetnigac and Milow, I mumble an excuse to Crix.

It takes me some time to get out of the room. Everybody wants to talk to me before midnight.

********************************************************************

When I finally arrive in the kitchen, the heated talk between Gita and Orson stops immediately. As if an invisible pair of scissors has cut through the air.

“Ina, I,” he starts with a stricken face.

Feigning impatience, I wave my hand. “Stop being such a child, Orson! How dare you question my feelings for you?”

He becomes visibly smaller on the kitchen chair.

“I love everybody in the living-room. Why should you be an exception? Just because you are flawed, overbearing and power-hungry? Do you think so little of me? Of my feelings for you?”

“I...” he starts again, his cheeks heated.

“When I can love my uncle the way he is, what makes you think different rules apply to you?”

Orson hangs his head.

“Please, no more singing from you tonight! I am not able to bear any more wounds from you. First your rudeness towards your father, then the news about the apple trees and now this. Will you also throw the birthday cake into my face later on? You already have practice at it.”

Shyly, he looks up. Not the great military man and engineer any more. “Can I make amends?”

I let him hang in his misery for several heart beats. “Bay,” I say, hearing my foster mother breathe in sharply. “I want to see Bay before we return to Lothal. And I want better detention conditions for him.”

His eyes widen in shock. “You want amnesty for Chasdy?”

I shrug. “The inhabitants of Jedha surely will receive none. Because they happened to be there when your ego got thrashed by Saw Gerrera. That gave you and Sheev the excuse to station troops there, right?”

He gets up, both of his hands wrapped in bacta bandages. “Would you like to tell your mother the entire plan behind it?” he thunders.

“Orson,” my foster mother purrs. “I am right here. And I can hear you.”

“Forgive me, Mistress Anil, but Ina is impossible.”

Now it is Gita's turn to rise from the kitchen table. She is about the same height as Orson, but right now she seems much bigger. “You were on the brink of destroying another birthday party! But that is not all. Berch told me that you had been stalking her weeks before Sheev made himself Emperor.”

“He lies. That jerk never liked me.”

“Like it or not that jerk is my son and I believe him,” Gita states, her arms crossed. “And Nagina here is my daughter. You are but a guest in this house.”

“Tolerated, but not welcome!” my foster father, who has silently slipped into the room, adds. “You would be well advised to keep a low profile around here. Do me the favour of not thinking you can dictate every tiny detail in Nagina's life. She is a Palpatine, which practically makes her an Imperial princess of sorts. Her uncle meant for you to guard her, not to terrorize her.”

“He trusts me enough to share her medical files with me. Even the one from...”

Dravits comes out of nowhere, smashing Orson against the fridge and holding on to his throat. “There are things we never mention here in this house, Krennic. Not because the past is the past.”

I hurry towards the two men, trying to make my foster brother ease his grip.

My foster parents are on standby, as if making observations for a study on aggression between two alpha males.

“No, Krennic, there are subjects we leave unsaid around here because this is a safe house,” Dravits grits through his teeth, his brow sweaty. “Those who are bothered by something only need speak up when they choose to.”

“Argh!” Orson is becoming blue in the face, but his eyes glow with fire. “Gah!”

“If you do not want to end up with a broken collar bone again then shut the freck up about the Naboo incident! It is midnight now! Her birthday has begun.”

With that, Dravits releases his opponent.

“Oh sweetie pie!” sighs Gita, not sparing a look for Orson.

Chetan walks to the table and starts to pour wine into several glasses that wait on a tray.

“Happy birthday, Nagina!” Dravits beams as if nothing of great concern just happened. “May you last for at least another fifty-nine years!”

While he engulfs me in a hug, I cast a glance at Orson, who sits on the kitchen floor holding his throat. Fingerprints are still visible around it.

“Bunny,” says my foster mother. “Please get Nagina and the tray back into the living-room! Your father and I will see to Orson and his sore throat.”

********************************************************************

Outside the kitchen _“Bunny”_ Dravits' face drops. “I am so sorry that you had to witness that, but that Krennic creeper had it coming.” He wrinkles his nose. “You cannot expect me to stand down, when all the secret reports on you...”

“Galen Erso,” I interrupt him. “He is Orson's number one. If you really want to get to him, then find out what that scientist is able to do with kyber crystals.”

“Kyber crystals?” My foster brother raises one of his fine, blond eye brows.

“The strongest stars have a heart of kyber. They also fuel the light saber of Jedi knights and Sith lords.”

He rolls his eyes. “Do you know that you sound like that dreadful cat character from 'The Last Unicorn'? Always speaking in riddles?”

I start sniggering. “I am what I am. I would tell you what you want to know if I could, for you have been kind to me. But I am a cat, and no cat anywhere ever gave anyone a straight answer.”

He leans his brow against the closed living-room door where the chatter-chatter of my birthday guests can be heard. They seem be enjoying themselves even more now that Orson is not in the room any more.

“Nagina, there is no reason to be loyal to Orson or your uncle.”

“Says an Imperial agent.”

“About two weeks ago I was part of the Republic. Now it seems I am working for the Separatists.”

I stand on tiptoe to kiss his nose. “There is a box under our parents bed. It contains some of my notes on the Sith. Look for their weapons and the heritage of the Celestials!”

“Really, Nagina?”

“It is known that they built weapons that could destroy planets, entire star systems even.”

Berch tears the door open and Dravits stumbles into the living-room.

Immediately, the gathered guests start singing a birthday song.

_“Happy birthday to you_   
_Happy birthday to you_   
_Happy birthday, dear Nagina_   
_Happy birthday to you”_

I beam at everybody and try to grasp every hand that comes my way.

Suddenly, I am gazing into the brown eyes of a person that I have not seen in ages. Not since he handed out my last exam.

“Dalus Othona?” I ask the Provost of the University of Alderaan.

“Nagina, child!” he says with his deep, booming voice, patting my cheek. “It has been a while, but when I heard that your birthday was today, I had to come.”

A light-skinned woman with brown eyes stands behind the elderly man. Even though her normally dark hair is dyed red and she wears emerald green, I recognize Sheltay Retrac.

“Oh, you brought your grand-daughter along,” I suggest, knowing straight away that Bail has sent them.

“And your present,” he adds, his gaze somewhat nervous. “It is upstairs, for your eyes only.”

********************************************************************

Nobody minds me leaving the room. I am the birthday child and can do whatever I please.

“Your fosters gave us their room because it's the biggest in the house,” Dalus Othona explains.

“Why have you come?” I ask, still astonished about his choice.

“I am the one who is to deliver the parcel!” the Provost entrusts me with a crooked smile.

'Parcel' is a military term.

My heart skips a beat or two.

“His Serene Highness found something that belongs to you and I was around when he did.”

I have no clue what that could be.

Sheltay Retrac opens the bedroom door of Gita and Chetan, but stays outside. Obviously, she wants to stand guard. Only Dalus Othona accompanies me inside.

I turn the light on and gaze straight into Lor's pale face. My _fiancé_ has a weak smile for me. “Surprise!” he whispers.

“What happened?” I ask and surge towards the bed.

His large, hairy hand closes around mine. “I was wounded on my way out of the temple. It was one of the temple guards.” Speaking is not easy for him. “He left me to die in heap of corpses meant for incineration. But I had a guardian angel. The Force ghost of Jocasta Nu helped me.”

I am too shocked to say anything.

The Provost tries to help out. “To make a long story short, Mister San Tekka made it to the side entrance of Cantham House.”

A loud noise comes from the window.

Both men startle, while a little smile forms on my lips. “Bathseba!”

“This is not possible!” Lor gapes. “The old girl couldn't possibly...”

“Have a little faith,” I cut in sneakily. “She has known you since you were a little hatchling, right?”

While Dalus Othona frowns deeply, my fiancé stares at me as if I have grown two heads like a Troig.

Opening the windows with the Force, Bathseba flies in majestically. Her wings glitter in the moonlight as if sprinkled with stardust .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> Text bits from the song “Another love” by Tom Odell (2012)  
> The world famous “Happy birthday song”  
> The song “The Last Unicorn” from America for the identically named soundtrack “The Last Unicorn” (1982)  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia 
> 
> Inspirational song for this chapter:  
> The score “Haggard´s unicorns” from America for the soundtrack “The Last Unicorn” (1982)


	28. Chapter 28

Nobody minds me leaving the room. I am the birthday child and can do whatever I please.

“Your fosters gave us their room because it’s the biggest in the house,”  Dalus Othona explains.

“Why have you come?” I ask, still astonished about his choice.

“I am here to deliver the parcel!” the Provost entrusts to me with a crooked smile.

’Parcel’ is a military term.

My heart skips a beat or two.

“His Serene Highness found something that belongs to you and I was around when he did.”

I have no clue what that could be.

Sheltay Retrac opens the bedroom door, but stays outside. Obviously, she wants to stand guard. Only Dalus Othona accompanies me inside.

As I flash the light on, I gaze straight into Lor’s pale face. My fiancé has a weak smile for me. “Surprise!” he whispers.

“What happened?” I ask and surge towards the bed.

His large, hairy hand closes around mine. “I was wounded on my way out of the temple. It was one of the temple guards.” Speaking is not easy for him. “He left me to die in heap of corpses, meant for incineration. But I had a guardian angel. The Force ghost of Jocasta Nu helped me.”

I am too shocked to say anything.

The Provost tries to help out. “To make a long story short, Mister San Tekka made it to the side entrance of Cantham House.”

A loud noise comes from the window.

Both men startle, while a little smile forms on my lips. “Bathseba!”

“This is not possible!” Lor gapes. “The old girl can’t...”

“Have a little faith,” I cut in sneakily. “That convor has known you since you were a little hatchling, right?”

While Dalus Othona frowns deeply, my fiancé stares at me as if I have grown two heads like a Troig.

Opening the windows with the Force, Bathseba flies in majestically. Her wings glitter in the moon light as if star dust is sprinkled on them.

********************************************************************

Watching Bathseba heal my beloved stuns both Dalus Othona and me. A soft glow begins to spread through the air. Its colour is hard to define. Violet, blue, green and red – they come and go as they please. Fading in and out, they shift and wobble around. It is not like sunset or dawn. It is more like witnessing the birth of a star.

My heart fills with bitter-sweet pain.

Normally, stellar nurseries are hidden within towers of dust and gas. Via ancient shaman techniques my uncle brought me to such a place once. There he helped me to gaze straight into the actual cradle, the _nidulus_. I had never seen light like that. So pure, so perfect.

But we did not stay there. Sheev had not finished his sightseeing tour of the universe with me. Not after my attempt to end it after Barin had died. He had wanted me to learn a lesson and as a teacher, he always had been exceptional. In handling me, anyway.

Our souls travelled further until we reached the event horizon of a black hole. There I saw how the space time anomaly attempted to devour a star by stretching it into a ’noodle shape’.

The words that Sheev said to me back then rise from the depths of my mind.“The universe as we understand it is comprised of both dark and light sides. In the end it is very simple, Nagina. Our feelings play a great part in who we are and we should not deny or be ashamed of them like the Jedi do.”

Shame is a notion that I know too well since Orson has been back in my life. My _shanti_ , my inner peace, is gone. I constantly need to cloak myself in secrecy, even lies.

I close my eyes and take a series of controlled breaths, _Pranayama_. This technique was once taught to me by Maxiron Agolerga himself. He had recognized me for what I was, a Force-sensitive child seeking balance. His speech also comes back to me.

“Breath, just breath. Now reach out. What do you see?”

Even though I try to hold it in, my lips give the answer that I gave thirty-nine years ago inside a Naboo temple.

“Light. Darkness. The balance.”

Bathseba chirps approvingly and then she starts singing. A sweet melody without words.

Fear, sorrow, frustration – they all resolve into cold ashes.

Only I remain, hugging myself.

But I am not alone. I never will be. Not for my uncle. I am a child of the Force. I am a child of the ancient mother.

In the pantheon of gods, Shiraya has the highest ground. As a lunar deity she knows about the light, the darkness and all that is in between.

A Sith might have played an essential part in my upbringing, but I was anointed to to a higher course as a toddler.

The crescent moon tattoo faded away years ago. Only a very keen observant would be able to see its pale lines above my third eye chakra. I have stayed attuned to the spirit world nonetheless.

_“I am a strong woman,”_ I mutter.  
_“I am a story woman._  
 _I am a teacher._  
 _My soul will never die.”_

Bathseba stops singing and I can hear the rustling of her feathers, as she closes her wings.

“He is not waking up,” Dalus Othona worries.

I open my eyes and smile at him. “He is under a spell. A powerful spell.”

The provost blinks at me, not comprehending.

“The guardian put my fiancé in a Force trance,” I re-phrase immediately. “To return from the gates of the Netherworld is a hard journey. That Sith underling has not only injured his body. The damage to his soul is immense. He needs some time to sort everything out for himself.”

Dalus Othona pales. “His Serene Highness mentioned that the Sith are back. But I had hoped so much that he misunderstood you, Nagina.”

I straighten my back. “I am so sorry to inform you that not only Alderaan is threatened by a full-scale Sith Empire invasion. This time the enemy is Coruscant itself.”

His eyes water. “So the Jedi have fallen to the dark side?” he assumes wrongly.

“My uncle Sheev Palpatine is the enemy,” I admit. “The Jedi order was as much his pawn on the Dejarik board as the Republic and the Separatist armies.”

The old man gapes for air. It takes a while before he recovers from his shock. “This is why His Serene Highness told me to ask you for the specifics.” He scans me. “So much rests on your young shoulders.”

“As an Alderaanian you know about the special link between the Naboo and your people.”

He nods.

“Then let me tell you one of the most ancient legends we Naboo have. It originates from the time when our ancestors came from Grizmallt.”

Casually, Dalus Othona sits down on a chair that stands next to the marital bed. He crosses his legs. His pose reminds me of my oral university exams, in which he was present as an observer. But his face looks much more grave now than it did back then.

I move my nervous fingers into a mudra and start talking again. “Very soon the settlers found out that their new planet lacked a molten core. Instead a conglomerate of large, rocky bodies made up a network of tunnels and dark waters. They called the anomaly ’the Caves of Eleuabad’.”

He nods along.

“But there was more in the depths. Large, hideous life forms moved around in the abyss. When one of my ancestors saved the crew of his sub marine from one of those sea monsters, a new myth came to life. Ever since it has been known that House Palpatine is the gatekeeper of chaos.” I pause to draw some strength for my next words. “Now that my uncle has become chaos itself, a Leviathan of the worst kind, it is my turn to stand guard.”

When the elderly man reaches out for one of my hands, there is a soft knock at the door.

And before I can answer, Sheltay Retrac lets the next visitor in.

I shriek with delight, clapping my hands together like a small child.

********************************************************************

Nobody on Naboo knows how old Brother Durante really is. Rumours have it that he has been the order’s gate keeper even before the current pontifex was born. While his dense beard is neatly trimmed, his head is bold and hidden underneath his monk’s cap. For this occasion he wears plum-coloured robes embroidered with millaflowers. He is one of the few Force-sensitive members of the Brotherhood of Cognizance.

Bathseba exchanges a long gaze with the newcomer, then they both nod curtly at one another.

“ _Namaste_ , guardian of the Whills,” he says, his eyes twinkling in delight.

The convor whistles something cheerful, its tail whipping up and down.

I rush towards Brother Durante, skipping the traditional Naboo greeting of an elder. He does not mind. Instead he holds me as he has held me a thousand times before.

“Darkness surrounds you despite the wonderful ally that the Force itself sent to you.”

I sniff into his bony chest.

“There is also darkness within you.”

There is no way that I can stop him from making a complete evaluation of me.

“Could be that since we last saw each other you almost lost yourself in _Punnama_? And that you were saved by a kind soul at the last moment?”

I gnaw on the inside of my right cheek.

“You are an initiate of Shiraya,” he says in a friendly tone of voice. “Even when the darkness hurts you so much that you cannot resist it, please keep in mind what the _Bhagavad-Gita_ says about death.”

His teachings come back into my mind effortlessly. _“There are two paths along which souls travel after death,”_ I offer.

“Name them!” he asks me kindly, and releases me from his embrace.

Instead of feeling exposed to his gaze once more and lingering on the shame, I quote the words that I have known since my early childhood days. _“One is the path of the sun, also known as the bright path or the path of gods.”_

“Yet there is another,” he suggests.

I take a deep breath. _“The path of the moon, also known as the dark path and the path of ancestors.”_

“Your honoured uncle gave you only your forename. The one you are generally known by.” His smile is like a ray of sun. “But your mother asked me to give you the other one, when your second birthday had come.”

My memory of this event is blurred, but vivid.

_**Water from the Solleu River touched my brow.** _

_**Then Brother Durante whispered a name, one that only my mother and those close to my heart ever were to know. The name of my true self, of my soul.** _

“You named me after the legendary Cassandra. A seer that nobody believed in.”

He laughs heartily. “You are wrong. I named you after a hero.”

In disbelief I stare at him.

“Her dedication to her beliefs was strong,” he moves on. “And so was her persistence in trying to warn her friends and family against adversity.”

“Adversity,” I echo, thinking it is a very harmless word for the darkness that Sheev has plunged all of us into.

“Cassandra, though she ended up as a hostage of war, had the strength to go on with a cursed life.”

I make a face.

“Just stay true to yourself,” Brother Durante advices me. “That particular guardian of the Whills would not be here, if you were not.”

Before I can answer, the door opens a third time.

Dravits looks as apologetic as he can. “Permission to speak!”

********************************************************************

To see my foster brother shuffling his large feet like a kindergarten child is endearing.

“Of course, Drav!” I offer.

An ugly shadow falls over his face. “I can have Krennic brought straight to Hanna City.”

“No,” I stress. “You will not cause him to go into allergic shock. That is out of the question!”

“I feared that you might say that. You never liked my pragmatic procedure of solution.”

“You know that I love you very much?” I ask. “For being reasonable.”

He smirks. “Krennic does not know that he already has the best super weapon in the universe. You always aim for a person’s weak spot and never miss.”

I let him place his chin on my head, enjoying the scent of his aftershave. “I will allow you to give Orson a sleeping pill though,” I tell him bluntly. “He could use a good-night’s rest.”

“Meaning that we can finally have a real party?”

“I… I would… would like to have an emergency wedding,” Lor cuts in.

********************************************************************

A tremor goes through Dravits’ lean body. He remains motionless for a long moment. Then he says, with a hissing sigh of resignation, “Are you very, very sure about this, San Tekka? You might end up as the most hunted man in the universe.”

_“I am not afraid.”_ A tinge of colour comes back into Lor’s pale cheeks. “Neither of Palpatine nor of the dark side.”

“I ask myself whether that is good enough,” my foster brother murmurs, unwilling to contradict my _fiancé_ , but plainly unconvinced.

“For me it is.” I take a determined step closer towards the sick bed and reach out for Lor’s right hand. “I want this man and no other. Barin would agree with my choice. Why can’t you?”

Dravits’ eyes narrow into thoughtful slits. “Your first husband was a fighter and a scoundrel. His knife was as quick and sharp as his tongue. Sheev respected him a great deal. A Ph. D. in intergalactic history though...”

“I know about the Sith,” Lor interrupts calmly.

“From ancient script rolls and from other written sources, yes.” Dravits keeps staring him down. “The reality that we all have to face these days is much, much bleaker.”

“Once more, I... am not... afraid. The Force will guide my steps.”

An almost hysterical grunt escapes my foster brother’s throat. “The Force.”

“Yes, the Force,” I say. “It brought Lor and me together in the first place.”

A lop-sided smile appears on Dravits’ lips. “Love can work a lot of miracles. I have witnessed many of those since mom and dad took me into this household. But the Force...” His face is free from any taint of amusement. “Well excuse me for saying so, but it is a variable that I do not understand.”

“Me neither.” Now it is Lor’s term to smile. He sits up straight. “But I believe in it anyway.”

Bathseba makes a happy cooing sound and flatters on the metal headboard. There she neatly folds her wings in, but keeps swinging her tail in a waiting attitude. Her eyes are piercing Dravits.

“That still makes you a believer, San Tekka, not a fighter.” My foster brother shakes his head heavily. “Can you keep my sister safe from physical harm like Barin could?”

“The dark night of her soul has already come.” My _fiancé’s_ voice is weary. “I try to keep Nagina in the light with me, make her happy.”

Dravits heaves a deep exasperated sigh. “Her post-traumatic stress disorder is indeed a heavy burden.” He pauses. “I believe that you are devoted to helping my sister heal from the inside out. But what if enemies like the one you faced on Coruscant appear? Will you throw books into their faces? Start a philosophy discussion with Sith underlings?”

“Please, Drav!” I sob with tears in my eyes. “Don’t be in the way! Lor and I already have to face so many obstacles.”

His eyes glimmer with sympathy. “I will not deny you a second chance, Nagina. Just ask yourself if now is the right time.”

“Love just happens, Mister Draven.” Brother Durante walks towards the bed, his robes rustling discretely. “I can marry them straight ahead. Dalus can be Lor’s best man and as a foster sibling you could give the bride away.”

Dravits is quiet for a moment, his ribs rising and falling. Then he leans forward and kisses me gently on the forehead. “You told me once that Palpatine can read minds and also has Sly Moore to do that for him. I want you two love birds to be safe from harm. The fewer people who know, the better.”

I nod in earnest. “Only our parents, Crix and Berch. Oh, and Old Jho, my neighbour back on Lothal.”

“A wise choice!” His arm slides around my waist, anchoring me to him. “Technically, you are _une_ _princesse du sang_ , a princess of the blood. You cannot marry whomever you want. You need the Emperor’s permission.”

Brother Durante looks as if he means to say something about that, but then decides to remain silent.

Suddenly, Dravits starts to fumble around with his leather belt. He takes it off and hands it over to me. I am touched by this gesture. My foster brother obviously knows about the importance of hand-fastening in Naboo wedding tradition.

********************************************************************

The ceremony is quick, but not passionless. And certainly not without dignity. Lor and I say our sacred vows – the _Saptapadi_. We speak them all in the ancient tongue that binds Naboo and the desert moon of Jedha together.

His hand in mine feels natural, as if it belongs there.

For the last and seventh vow, Lor proclaims us as husband and wife for eternity, _“Om sakhi jaradastayahga.”_

I am about to agree when a loud noise from the outside makes the words die on my lips.

Bang, bang.

It sounds like a heavy army boot kicking against the door repeatedly.

“Ina?”

Orson manages to put all his feelings into the short form of my name – anxiety, alarm and anger.

“Mister Krennic,” booms Brother Durante, casting an appalled look at the door. “I am the father confessor of Mistress Samye. We are right in the middle of taking confession. This has to wait.”

There is scoffing. “As long as Ina does not tell you about secret weapon projects or conspiracy theories, I am fine out here.” A little pause follows. “Otherwise I’ll blast myself through this young woman in front of me and through this bedroom door.”

Dravits’ face turns dark purple. “Oh please try that, you old stinker!” he whispers. “Give me a reason to open fire.”

In silence, I raise my free hand high above my head.

Everybody in the room, including my groom, looks at me intently.

I close my eyes and reach into the jumble of emotions that fills my heart. There is no other way than to take things to a new level.

“Orson Callan Krennic!” I fume, stepping onto a path that I have never used before. “If you dare to threaten my guests any further, I will notify the Red Guard. They can be here in record time.”

_“My bloody oath, what for?”_ he wonders.

I do not open my eyes. Instead, I try to cling to the blind wrath boiling inside my veins. It makes me sick. If this is how my uncle feels most of the time, then I do not want to be a servant of the dark side.

“Please, Ina!” he begs like the sweet boy he used to be once. _“I am a bit of a bastard, I know, but I am not a bad egg.”_

“Go away!” I shout. “This is important to me.”

We all hold in our breath.

“I’ll be downstairs again, okay?” Orson suggests, finally. “Mistress Othona does not need to stand guard here. I will walk her back to the other guests.”

We remain frozen for a long time after.

Then I whisper audible to everybody in the room. _“Attramshe sakshino vadet pade”_ , which is my agreement to be Lor’s wife. My promise to him that we will love, honour and cherish each other forever.

I bend down towards his waiting lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> Website of the Official Home of Sith Ministries international, founded 2008  
> https://www.sathyasai.org/history/refs/diction.htm  
> An altered version of the Serenity prayer written by the American theologian Reinhold Niebuhr (1892-1971)  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia 
> 
> Inspirational song for this chapter:  
> The score “Haggard's unicorns” from America for the soundtrack “The Last Unicorn” (1982)


	29. Chapter 29

Not shortly after our wedding kiss I am on my way downstairs again, wearing a gown in Tyrian purple, the Imperial colour. I have chosen something with many layers of skirts, slightly flared cuffs and a bodice. It is one of the few Naboo dresses that I have. Sheev gave it to me shortly after Barin's death.

While Dalus Othona and Brother Durante waited outside, Sheltay Retrac had helped me like a handmaiden would have done.

Throughout her political career Padmé Naberrie, better known as Senator Amidala, had made statements via her clothing. I am about to make one, too. Subtle, but still.

I use the ironwork of the staircase to support myself. The weight of thousands of worlds seems to lie on my shoulders.

Another act of open betrayal. Sheev will forgive me as usual, but my god father Sate will not if he hears about it. And I am sure both men will sooner or later. I have thrown too many stones into the giant lake that is called the Galactic Empire. There are tiny ripples on the surface. To the trained eye they will show.

At least I do not have to worry about Lor right now. Bathseba has put my husband back into a Force trance. He needs more time to heal from his ordeals on Coruscant.

What grants me real relief is that Sheltay Retrac has offered to guard the bedroom until further notice. Dravits wants to stay on with her. Knowing my foster brother, I suppose that he has secret dealings with Bail. The less I know, the better.

Flanked by Dalus Othona and Brother Durante, both still in awe of my new outfit, I return to the living-room.

My birthday guests are still enjoying themselves with food and drink. To seek out Orson in their midst is not difficult at all. He laughs loud and heartily, holding on to a cake board. Milow is sitting next to him on the sofa. It is obvious that the two men have started a comfortable conversation. Neither of them does notice me. But somebody else does.

“Jizz,” whispers a voice next to me.

“Your Milow is a true darling, Ahetnigac,” I answer in the same hushed voice.

To keep Orson's investigative mind engaged with his favourite type of music is a fantastic idea.

One of my foster sister's lekku swings on my left shoulder, drawing me closer to her. “Human men cannot be all bastards like Krennic.”

“Don't let him hear that!”

“Where have you been the entire time?” Ahetnigac wants to know. “Not just dressing up for the occasion, right?”

“Unwrapping the special parcel mom and dad had for me,” I say, hoping it is not too quick an answer.

“Did you like it? What was it? They didn't want to tell me. Neither would the boys. And what's with your provost? How does he fit in?”

Berch comes along, carrying two champagne flutes. “Have our parents ever picked the wrong present?” he asks. His triumphant glow reminds me of my Loth-cat after drinking clotted cream.

Before I can answer, Crix saunters by. He also carries two flutes. “Another toast to our birthday girl!”

Laughing, Ahetnigac sets me free again and picks her champagne flute from Berch's fingers.

It is no coincidence that our foster brothers seek us out this very moment. I am not a simpleton. They are really serious about me keeping my marriage with Lor as secret as possible.

As Crix places a flute into my hands, he leans down to press a kiss against one of my cheeks.

I take a chance and whisper straight into his ear, “Mission accomplished.”

He makes a coughing sound, but then says rather innocently, “Well, our Nagina indeed deserves a toast tonight.”

I raise my glass as high as I can, calling out, “To the love that surrounds us all!”

The chatter of my guests stops and everybody is looking at me.

A loud noise and some suppressed giggles tell me that Orson just must have rolled off the sofa.

The crowd steps aside and I see him indeed lying on his face.

Berch gives me a thumbs up.

I flush down my drink in one go. Then I smooth my skirt, even though it needs no smoothing.

“I would like to thank you all, that you are here tonight. You have come from all of the corners of the galaxy to be around for my birthday. I feel very, very honoured. Because there are more important issues at hand since we are not a Republic any longer.”

My parents and Crix give me warning looks, while Berch start to resemble a little thunder cloud. He certainly had a different speech in mind.

“This was supposed to be a birthday speech instead of a political one. I am sorry for doing that to all of you, but a new dawn has broken. Sheev Aurelius Cosinga Palpatine is not the sweet old gentleman that he pretended to be when he took over from Finis Valorum.”

Tears fill my eyes and I need to pause. The memory of my uncle's destroyed features still haunts me. He has become a creature like Darth Sion, the Lord of Pain. An Undead only held together by scorn, hatred and thirst for power.

“Forty-one years ago I was born into a Naboo household. I lost my birth mother early in life. Her murderer also tried to get to me three years later. His shocking crime brought me straight into the loving care of Gita and Chetan, who raised me as their own. I have many brothers and sisters ever since.”

Some of my foster siblings start cheering.

“Fact is, that I doubt that we all will be able to celebrate my fiftieth birthday together like this. Life has changed profoundly two weeks ago.”

The cheering stops.

“It is not the Jedi who wanted an overthrow of government. Just one man did and he planed his rise to power so carefully, that nobody noticed until it happened.”

I place my right hand above my heart.

“Please take care from now on! Trust only those close to heart. Do your best to keep your families together! A civil war, far worse than the clone wars, is ahead of us. We all need to be strong for one another. I know you will all make the right choices in the years to come. I love you all. No matter what!”

Silence falls.

********************************************************************

It is Crix, who takes the empty champagne flute out of my trembling left hand. “If you get political during your own birthday,” he muses loud enough for everybody to hear, “then we truly face dark times.”

I let him wrap his arm around me and squeeze me against him.

“It was a fine speech,” he assures me. “Thanks for indulging us all. Now it is our turn, to continue the festivities in your honour.”

I lean further in to Crix, enjoying the scent of his aftershave. It was a present of mine for the last Festival of Light. It makes me happy that he chose it for tonight.

_“Aanor,”_ he says in a low voice. “ _Love_ , no worries now. You did great. Just enjoy yourself now!”

With one of her brightest smiles Ahetnigac announces, “This year we will celebrate a bit longer than usual. Nagina will start a new job position in a crèche on Lothal and none of us knows if free travel is possible in the nearby future any more.”

Cautious nods from almost everybody in the room.

“Tonight we celebrate unity and freedom.” Her lekku move slightly and for the first time I regret that I never learned Ryl from her, the subtle body language of the Twi'lek. “Mom and Dad said it is okay for people to stay on for at least three days. There will be a lot of good food, decent drink, games, music and even dancing.”

The tunes of Milow's piano play fill the living-room again and our foster brother Rikron, a Bith, joins him with a Kloo horn.

Suddenly, there is wild applause.

Jandovar the famous vandfillist has entered via the veranda door. Her famous song “Does Anyone Weep?” had been high in the charts around the time of Barin's death.

“Milow has been asking favours the past week,” Ahetnigac beams. “But since mom's cooking is legend, it was not difficult to lure his music colleagues here to Chandrila.”

Crix pulls her to his free side, hugging her and me like.

“Look who's there!” she whispers to me.

Janet Lalasha, an equally known celebrity in intergalactic music business produces her Dorenian Beshniquel from its travel case.

I blink at her.

This woman also runs danger to become a suspicious individual by the regime. Moralisers like Sate hate jizz and all that it stands for. I wonder how long my uncle can hold a protecting hand above his favourite music style. There needs to be a sacrifice

“This will be the best spontaneous jizz gig ever!” cheers my Twi'lek foster sister.

I am lead to the same sofa that Orson sat on earlier. His missing body tells me that Berch already had brought him elsewhere. I can only hope that he is just lying on a hay stack inside the barn. The manger of our two Ikopis would be rather a nasty idea.

My mother comes to sit next to me, taking my hands into her lap. “Are you alright?” she inquires.

I shake my head.

“Then you better sit down with me and your father in the kitchen for a while. Your guests are taken care of.”

********************************************************************

There is no need to be nervous, but I am anyway. I pause a lot while I tell my parents how I met Lor in the first place and what he means to me.

My foster parents gaze at one another many times.

Then Gita says, “Do you have a date yet?”

Before I can answer, Berch knocks from the outside, pressing his nose against the screen door.

Chetan rises to let him in.

My foster brother's clothing is covered with straws, which leads me to the conclusion that the unconscious Orson has been carried into the barn.

“Was I interrupting anything?” he asks with an innocent grin.

“I was about to tell them about my emergency wedding to Lor earlier on,” I mumble.

“What?” Gita looks like a woman being startled by an attacking Veermoks.

Chetan purses his lips. He does not seem shocked or surprised like his wife. Then he smiles, and it is a gentle, warm smile. “We should have known better, your mother and I...”

With a sob Gita gets up and I meet her half-way. “You cannot get married like a thief in the night,” she sniffs. “There needs to be a full ceremony with...”

“No, mother,” Berch interrupts her. “The less people know, the better. Old Palps might not like it a single bit that Barin has a successor.”

Her stern gaze shows that Gita does not care about my uncle or his opinion at all. “I have a new son-in-law, dearest. A man who has to hide upstairs due to some coup that turned the Jedi into enemies of state.”

My foster brother's teeth are clenched tight. “You are missing the point here, mother.”

“Am I, Berch?” she says with a humourless laugh. “Nagina is caged like a pet. I will not allow it any longer. When the Blue Shadow Virus affair took place, I kept my mouth shut as you requested. But now my patience is used up.”

“We are trying to protect you all!” he claims.

“Which is very nice of you, Crix and Dravits, but I cannot, will not deny my son-in-law to be integrated into this household with all honours that go with it. I am your mother, Berch, but I am also a Naboo woman. Keeping a marriage secret like this is out of question.”

Chetan shakes his head, swinging it slowly back and forth. “Our boy is right, darling. It will neither become Lor or Nagina when it is known.”

“I do not care!” snaps my foster mother. “The union of a bride and a groom should be cherished. It is not a shameful occasion. They can pursue _dharma_ , _artha_ , _kama_ and _moksha_...”

His dark hair is a strong contrast to his red face, when Berch bites out his words, “The right of privacy is a right that no citizen of this galaxy has any longer in the eyes of our government. It started right after the Naboo crisis and it will become worse. Religions like yours might be forbidden any time soon. Palpatine will go for coordination, for closely integrated political and military strategy.”

My foster mother stops holding me and turns to him weary eyed. “I need no lecture on Sheev's attempt to reign us all.”

“I want you to listen anyway,” Berch begs her. “Nagina was been right about the clone wars having been just an overture for the real bad deal. On many planets out there the population remains separated from the Core Worlds via forced relocations, destruction of villages or generation of refugees. Secretly, the Emperor keeps conditions still insecure, undermining government attempts at both pacification and attrition.”

“The old Sheevster sorts the wheat from the chaff,” Chetan realizes. “Like those weirdos from the Human League in the Corellian Sector he seems to believe in the rights of a master race.”

I feel cold and miserable out of a sudden. My greatest fears seem to come true.

“There are ISB reports about a current blockade of Kashyyyk.” Berch wipes away the sweat from his brow. “Certain individuals plan to take the citizen rights of the Wookies away. They are to be classified as non-sentinent beings.”

It seems that my uncle needs more than kyber crystals for his secret Sith weapon project. He wants an army of slave workers in addition. Geonosians seem not to be enough.

“Naga Sadow,” I say and alarm everybody in the kitchen with my grave face. “About five thousand years ago he forced the Massassi to build him countless pyramids on Yavin IV.”

Crix pops his head in, his ginger coloured hair glimmering. “Can we have back Nagina now? Her birthday party is not the same without her, you know?”

********************************************************************

Soon I am back to party business again. I smile at felicitors, accept nicely wrapped presents and kiss cheeks. My happiness is not acted. True joy fills me.

In dire times people need occasions like this where they can be themselves among like-minded people. I would not have held my birthday speech earlier on if my addresses would be fans of the Galactic Empire.

I watch Ahetnigac swinging her hips as sensually as her lekku.

I drink a glass of fountain water with Dalus Othona and Brother Durante, who get along very well.

I wink at Milow who takes a little break from playing the piano.

I agree to dance first with Dravits and then with Crix. Berch is not much of a dancer. But little Mara wants to take his place instead. With her feet wrapped around my rib cage we swirl through the crowd in wild circles.

I bring a tray with refreshments over to my Birth foster brother Rikron and the two famous lady musicians, who honour me with their presence tonight.

I talk to many of my friends, acquaintances and foster siblings before the rosy fingers of dusk tell us all it is time to go to bed.

Bathseba makes a noise like an R2 astromech unit when I sneak into the bedroom. There is no reproach in her eyes, just amusement.

“Yes, it was a long night,” I giggle.

When I hit the pillow next to Lor, not bothering to get out of my Naboo dress, the convor strokes a feathery wing over my face. Her tender carress sends me straight into the land of dreams.

********************************************************************

I am dreaming, of that I am aware. Glittering mist is everywhere. It seems like I am floating through the Force vortex itself. It is peaceful, until his soul calls out to mine, softly and persistent.

**“Nagina!”**

I keep concentrating on the wurthering wafts around me.

**“Flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood,** ” my uncle purrs like a Loth-cat, ready to play.

Resistance is futile. He will keep calling me, until I face him. Patience has brought him into his current position of power. Not a virtue that a Sith lord usually possesses.

**“Will you order me now to cross land and sea to do your bidding?”** I joke dryly.

His laughter comes from every direction.

It has been a while since I walked the path of the ghost world. Normally, I use sage and pray to Shiraya. But I am able to peal out of the shell that is my body nevertheless.

Weightless and silvery, I face Bathseba. The guardian of the Whills looks worried and opens its beak in protest, but I put a shimmering ghost finger against my lips.

There is no need to worry. I know what I am doing.

The first time I travelled like this was actually when Grandfather Cosinga started hurting me badly.

It took me years to tell Sheev about my special gift, but when I did he was pleased. He encouraged me to train together with him.

**“Come!”** my uncle woos me again.

I walk through walls, even through the air.

The lawn is full of tents, looking like a circus camp.

My silent journey takes me up a hill from where I can oversee the entire Anil property. In my wake I pass the sleeping body of Aurra Sing. But it is not her that I am interested in.

A lone figure, bodiless as me, stands in the grass sea.

**“You take a high risk travelling like this in such dark times,”** I remark.

**“Humbug! It is safer than the interstellar trade routes to Chandrila,”** Sheev answers, the hood deep in his face. **“Anyway, I am here to congratulate you for your birthday. I wanted to be the first.”**

I shuffle my feet. **“You are not mad that I am not on Lothal?”**

He chuckles. **“When Gita and Chetan took you in so many years ago it was clear to me that they would be forced to share you with them. The number of people who want a piece of you has grown immensely the past decades. I keep asking myself where you have met most of your friends.** ”

**“You do not blame Orson for the party here on Chandrila?”** I inquire.

**“I would only blame him if he had shamed you in front of your guests once more.”** He tilts his head. **“There was this infamous birthday cake incident during your sixteenth birthday, am I right?”**

**“If I have forgiven him, you should find it in your heart to forgive him as well.”**

**“He would not be alive otherwise,”** he smirks. **“But that is not my birthday present for you.”**

Expectantly, I gaze his shimmering ghost figure.

**“You may visit Padmé's grave if you must.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia 
> 
> Inspirational song for this chapter:  
> The score “Lady Marion” by Clannad from the soundtrack “Robin of Sherwood” (1984)


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30:**

I wake up to with a splitting headache, but at the same time I notice a warm body, framing mine. There is a familiar heartbeat, echoing into my veins.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Lor says and I can hear the smile in his voice. But then he pauses. “Does your uncle know? About us, I mean?”

Bright sunlight filters through the curtains, hurting my eyes. “Of course not,” I answer, closing my lids again. “Sheev is too polite to read my mind or ask me intimate questions about my love life.”

“Let us hope it stays this way,” Lor sighs. “Especially after last night.”

Wide eyed, I turn to face him. My aching head feels stiff and heavy while I do, and I feel at it with numb fingers. “You noticed that I was out of my body.”

He nods. “The silver thread was hard to miss.”

It is not easy for me to ask the following question. “How do you know about soul flight?”

“My great-grand-mother Erna was a shaman of the Whills. Her entire life she was more outside her body than inside. She seldom would get up from her rock chair by the fire place.”

I press my face against his chest. “Are you mad with me?”

He starts stroking my hair. “Of course not. I could never be mad with you, Nagina. You are what you are, my wife and his niece.” Kisses rain on my head, chasing the pain away. “And obviously you are gifted with rare Force talents.”

“The ancient serpentine blood line,” I sigh. “Sheev and I are both descendants of House Tjiehenet.”

Laughter rumbles through his chest. “The Legends of the Force. I read about them in the scriptorium of the Whills.”

Lor does not regard me as a freak, nor does he question my calling to be just an ordinary kindergarten teacher.

Large, hairy hands frame my face. “May the Force be with us and those who care about this union,” he says.

This leads me to another question automatically. “Does your family on Jedha know?”

“They know that you are my bride and that you are dear to me.”

With that he kisses me, long and breathless.

Soon our hands grope in the light of the late morning hours.

When I look for Bathseba in between, I can see her sitting on the wardrobe. Her avian face averted from us, but she makes happy little sounds. They sound like laughter.

********************************************************************

Around noon there is a knock at the door. Lor pulls the bed sheet up to cover our naked bodies.

“Are you decent?” asks Dravits through the door.

“Nah!” I can hear Berch chuckle. “But let us go in anyway.”

“We wait for our sister to let us in, guys!” decides Crix in a calm tone of voice. “It has always been that way.”

While a hushed quarrel breaks out, Lor gets up with a huge grin and I start roaming the room for fresh clothing.

There are two chairs opposite the still open window, they both have clothing on them. One for an oversized woman, another one for a large, tall man like my husband. My mother must have brought all of this around last night.

Lor is quicker in dressing than I am. He makes up the bed while I still struggle with my stockings.

Finally, I open the door and let my three foster brothers in. They all wear big, feisty grins on their faces.

“Brunch awaits you downstairs, milady,” Dravits announces. “Orson is still asleep in the barn and a large bunch of new birthday guests arrived. Lor can simply blend in.”

********************************************************************

The entire veranda serves as a buffet location. On the row of tables I spot Breakfast Cups, Dampers, Country Breakfast Casserole, Bacon and Egg Rolls, Breakfast Pies, Lamington Pancakes and many other goodies of Chandrilan breakfast culture.

Accustomed to cook and bake for a multitude of foster children, Gita has pulled off a birthday brunch of this proportion rather easily.

“Wookie cookies!” Lor whispers happily, a boyish gleam in his blue eyes. “Just look at the large chocolate chunks in them.”

Berch, usually just a coffee person in the morning, reaches out for an enormous cookie and stuffs it into his mouth in one go. With his puffed out cheeks he reminds me faintly of a Nexu minus the four red eyes.

Before my husband can grasp a Wookie cookie himself, a deep voice says right behind us, “First, you should try out the Nabooian nerve knockers.”

My heart leaps into my throat, but not for long. Chetan and Lor exchange but a firm handshake. No testosterone fills the air. Their faces are calm and relaxed.

“A son of NiJedha,” my foster father states thoughtfully. “I was told you grew up at the foot of the Temple of the Kyber.”

Lor laughs his irresistible laugh. “I was actually more inside the holy halls than outside the temple.”

Chetan gives him a questioning look.

“The order of the Whills differs a lot from the Jedi,” my husband explains quickly. “Their warrior monks are embedded in the real world rather than living an enclosed life among their own kind. Teaching everybody the ways of the Force is important to them.”

While my foster father follows each of Lor’s words with great interest, Berch gathers a mountain of Wookie cookies in his toga and marches off. Tales about the Force never interested my foster brother, just the gory bits about Sith massacres and their vicious plots.

“The temple of the Whills is a place of welcome and learning for all the faithful. I was taught reading and writing in Aurebesh alongside the 'temple boys' as we 'city cruisers' used to call them. There where a few rumbles between us now and then, but nothing serious. Mutual respect and friendship are essential in Jedha’s cold climate.” He smiles, his eyes gazing far into the past. “Chirrut and Baze, two dear friends, loved my mother’s po cha as much as her _dresil_. In return I was able to sneak inside the crystal chamber whenever I wanted to meditate on the nature of the Force. I was granted access to every script roll and book that interested me.”

Chetan places a hand on my husband’s right shoulder. “If you grew up with a diet based on butter tea, sweet rice and literature it is a miracle that you grew so tall.” He pauses. “It is true that you are eight years younger than our Nagina?”

I cannot help but blush crimson from head to toe.

“The Force is a timeless entity and so is love,” answers Lor without blinking. “When I first set eyes on your daughter, she was busy in one of her flower beds. She looked so lovely and lively among all the greenery around her. It was then when I fell head over heels in love with her.”

_“Then love has blinded you?”_

A corner of his mouth twitches. “You think so, Master Anil?” He crooks his blond head. “Let me tell you something essential about Nagina. She has much in common with my childhood teachers. Due to her I want to continue to seek out the mysteries of the universe and the true meaning of life.”

Chetan takes a step closer towards him. “And her true heritages does not bother you in the least?”

“Family cannot be chosen, Master Anil,” Lor replies in a civil tone of voice. “Only friends can.”

“This was not the question I asked you.”

My husband also takes a large step towards my foster father. Their faces almost touch one another. “In the temple I was taught a lot about the nature of the Force. Each of us carries the powers of light and darkness within. Our daily choices matter. And I choose Nagina just as she is.”

Facing so much loyalty, it is difficult to hold back my tears. I sniff into my left sleeve.

“Besides, I don’t believe in devils,” Lor moves on. “Indifference and misunderstandings can create evil situations. Most of the time, people who appear to be evil are really victims of evil deeds.”

My husband just has talked about both Sheev and Orson without naming them.

A sly smile appears on Chetan’s face. “Can you cook?”

I groan, my face feeling uncomfortably warm.

“My mother made sure that each of her sons and daughters knows a thing or two in the kitchen.” He winks at me, before adding, “The village of Jhothal, where Nagina is banished to, is settled in a rather rural area. There are no fast-food restaurants within in a radius of two hundred miles. I checked.”

While my foster father is pleased with the answer, knowing my bad eating habits all too well, I pull myself a glass of Chandrilan grappaberries in order to hide my blushing face.

Gita, wearing her favourite kitchen apron, passes through the veranda door with a bowl of fruit salad and walks straight towards us. “There you are.” She gives me a quick smile. “Our neighbours from the surrounding farms have joined your birthday celebrations. There are also visitors from Kuat and Hossnian Prime.”

Due to Barin’s death I have not celebrated my last three birthdays at all. Apart from Sheev and my former kindergarten group on Coruscant everybody had respected my wish. This year everything seems out of proportion.

“What about Orson?” I inquire carefully and scan the lawn for him.

“Still sound asleep as a baby,” Chetan ensures me. “You can check on him if you really need to.”

I press a hand on my fast beating heart. “You have not overdosed him, have you?”

My foster father laughs heartily. “That bird of yours worked her Force magic on him after Milow’s sleeping pill.”

From the nearby chestnut tree I hear chirping. Hidden in the dense greenery of the tree crown Bathseba pretends to be an ordinary songbird.

I smile wistfully.

The convor has bought me a couple of hours, at best an entire day. The drama will start when Orson wakes up again and starts asking questions.

********************************************************************

With Lor at my side I start my jolly roundabout, introducing him as a dear friend from Lothal. But my blushed face and my bright eyes hint towards something else. There are no questions though, for which I am grateful. My widow status grants me immunity yet.

I kiss many cheeks in greeting.

Small talk follows small talk.

In between, I try to eat something, but I am too excited to finish my food. I do manage to drink a lot of fountain water and juices.

At dawn, a tall figure dressed in black army trousers and a white tank top leaves the barn.

Immediately, Lor drifts off to somewhere else.

“Orson!” I beam and run towards my former ward, whose hands are not wrapped in bacta bandages any longer. “I wanted to wake you up in an hour.”

“Oh really?” Bitter-sweet irony is written all over his haggard face. “You did not seem in a hurry about that. But then again, you have at least seventy guests that need to be taken care off.”

“Eighty three,” I prompt for I cannot lie. At least not about that.

For a moment, we stand motionless. I can feel my heart thudding in my chest, the blood throbbing in my veins. Then Orson lays a clenched fist on his heart.

“If you lose my valuable service, dear Ina, then your new guardian might be a person you do not like in the least,” he warns me, glancing at me under his long lashes. “And there have been a few requests, believe me.”

I shudder, thinking of the men who surround my uncle like occultists: my godfather Sate Pestage, Kinman Doriana, the Chagrian Mas Amedda and Janus Greejatus. Only with Ars Dangor I am able to feel comfortable. He worships me since many years, even though he can be extremly cruel with others. If the darkhaired Naboo man ever had allowed himself a proper coming out, things would be much, much different.

“Be glad that I am prepared to fight for the right to be at your side,” Orson says quietly. His face is cold. There is no malice in it, merely a deadly calm. “I am cannot be retired from my current duties so easily.”

“As my white knight?” I joke, trying to ease the tension between us.

“If necessary I am your personal killer commando,” he says, the words coming out harshly.

“You want to surpass the birthday cake incident with a massacre today?” I ask, frowning slightly.

He says nothing, his eyes narrow and calculating. If he was a target computer, columns of figures would drift over his iris.

A wind is getting up.

_“No one knows what it’s like_   
_To be the bad man_   
_To be the sad man_   
_Behind blue eyes”_

Orson does not shift, his voice remaining taut even while singing those lines

_“No one knows what it’s like_   
_To be hated_   
_To be fated_   
_To telling only lies”_

Then he bows his head against my shoulder. In that moment, I remember how many times I had held him as a baby boy, sweating and trembling from nightmares.

“Stop fussing, Orson Callan Krennic!” I advice him. “Have some early dinner instead.”

He lifts his chin again. “Why are the Hills, the Evans and the Andersons here?” he asks, glancing over the lawn. “I also spot old Mister Taylor, the Hall twins and Mistress Wright.”

I use my right index finger to coax him closer towards my face, and say in a conspiring tone of voice, “Don’t tell, but these people are my parent’s direct neighbours. It is only a question of politeness to invite them for such an event, so as not to make them wonder.”

“None of them likes me,” he hisses back. “They never did.”

I smile brightly. “Then do your best to represent the new you: the Imperial officer and chef architect of the Emperor.”

He hurries back towards the barn like an eopie being stung by a dung fly.

Crix approaches me. “Will you stop me from barring the barn and setting it on fire?”

“Drav is known for such unusual solutions. You wouldn’t even consider it for a single heart beat.”

My Corellian foster brother gives me one of his mercurial smiles: the rare ones that come from the reserves of his being. “I told our brother you would see right through me.”

“Let Orson dress properly and give him the chance to do what he has been doing on Coruscant for many years now,” I beg. “Being a sparkling star at parties.”

An errant shaft of sunlight catches his face, turning it momentarily into the gilded mask of a secret service officer. “Our neighbours will not buy that from somebody who used to torture wild squalls and aimed at their cattle just for fun.” He shrugs and his features become softer again. “But when you dangle from his left arm, smiley and happy, they might believe he changed for the better.”

********************************************************************

It is late at night when I intend to walk up to my parent’s bedroom. Orson is still busy partying on the veranda, a glass of aged Chandrilan wine in his hands. He talks lout and animated.

“The Ersos, Drav, you will make enquiries about them, right?” I remind my foster brother who shields me from being spotted.

“I still fail to understand how the ancient Sith and a modern specialist for crystallogy can be of use to your uncle,” he mutters, keen not to draw any attention to us. Especially not from Orson.

“Sheev studied the Celestials hard and long. But not just them. There was once an insect-like race called 'the Kind'. They had developed the Qolaraloq, the World Puller.”

“Never heard of them, or that weapon.”

“It was a was a giant space station, capable of moving entire planets with tractor beams.”

“C’mon, Nini. Giant bugs from the Unknown Regions, who are ruthless architects like Krennic. I would say your uncle tricked you and gave you a science fiction thriller instead.” Now Dravits laughs in almost hysterical sobs. “This was never real history, just Legends.”

“The Geonosians are a fact, right?” I am sad he, of all people, does not believe me. “They were a huge part of the Clone Wars. Has anybody checked on them since Sheev made himself Emperor?”

His shoulders stiffen. “You see conspiracies everywhere these days.”

“Because fairy tales are true and so are the monsters in them.”

“Reading is not a healthy occupation.” He sniggers. “Trust me on that. In my line of work I have to skim through a lot of text on a daily basis.”

“But you follow unusual patterns in your security files, right? You never take things for granted. Not you.”

“Giant space stations cannot be built so easily,” Dravits gives me to consider. “They would cost the old Sheevster more money than he has and he can certainly not take tons of tax money.”

“Watch him do it,” I answer stiffly.

He shakes his head. “Then there is the logistics of such a project. Even if slimly opportunists like Orson are part of it, you need construction materials and workers.”

Frustrated, I box into his ribs and he does not even wince. “You do not understand the nature of the Sith, do you? Their cunning and ruthless determination to reach for power.”

He yawns. “Let me sleep on it. I’ll give you an answer in the morning.”

Sulking, I leave the veranda altogether and step into the empty house.

The climate on Chandrila is mild throughout the year and so are the nights. All my guests are out there. But one person is not.

In the darkness of the hallway Lor takes me into his arms. I am faintly reminded of Senator Amidala welcoming her secret husband General Skywalker home after my uncle’s 'rescue' from the 'Invisible hand'.

“You listened in,” I state.

“I heard every word of your conversation with Dravits,” my husband confesses.

I sniff against his chest. “Why can’t he see it?”

“You cannot force somebody to believe.” Lor strokes through my hair over and over again. “Belief grows inside the heart, bit by bit. It is nourished by experiences and meeting others. Give him time.”

“Time is something we do not have,” I protest.

“The Force will smooth everything out in the end, Nagina.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> “Star Wars: Episode III – The Return of the Sith”, a movie by George Lucas (2005 )  
> Quotes from Max van Sydow himself  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia 
> 
> Inspirational song for this chapter:  
> The score “Lady Marion” by Clannad from the soundtrack “Robin of Sherwood” (1984)


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31:**

The next day Orson does not appear for breakfast and I hear somebody say that he has headed off to Hanna City. This gives me the opportunity to sit right next to Lor. We do not openly flirt with one another though. There is no need. The nights will always belong to us, protecting our secret marriage.

Day time is filled with party business. There seems to be enough food and drink for an entire clone legion like the famous 501st. Visiting neighbours still stock up our supplies when they come around. Each casserole, each bottle of wine, each cake is a sign of appreciation from the farming community. I have been missed.

At noon, while I am busy to give out hugs and kisses, mostly accompanied by small talk, I feel a gaze drilling into me.

Orson is nearby, watching me. It is a huge effort for me to casually turn my back on him again. He behaves like a very conscientious doctor, checking on an unstable patient around the clock. It is unnerving really.

I go on with my current conversation, but I take great care that I do not comment on politics or the sudden end of the Clone Wars.

When Frank Talbot, a seasonal harvest hand from Emita, is gone again, Orson approaches me. “Will you be my guest?” he asks and while he does I realize that he is simply nervous.

“What for?” I demand to know, but keep my tone light.

He smiles at me, looking like the sweet boy he used to be. “I still had no real opportunity to give you something reasonable for your birthday.”

In my head is a long list of things I urgently need from him, starting with more privacy and ending with my freedom. But instead I step up to him and return his smile. “What is it?”

A smirk appears on his face. “The Emperor orders me to take you to Naboo when we are finished here. You are allowed to see the mausoleum of Amidala.”

I cannot tell him that Sheev and I already spoke about it. It would mean unmasking myself as a Force sensitive. “Thank you,” I beam, keeping my secrets for now.

He rolls his eyes. “But that is his present. I have something else for you.”

A mix of worry and curiosity light up my eyes. I can see them both mirrored in his eyes.

Shyly, Orson opens his left palm. “Could you walk with me to my ship, please? The surprise is inside.”

Trust is difficult under the circumstances, but I look straight into his blue eyes and see nothing but love.

My feet move all by themselves.

********************************************************************

Orson has taste. There is no doubt about it. The fuchsia coloured tunic is a dream. But why he also gives me a gold necklace and matching ear rings is a riddle for me. His bad conscience must be enormous. From private channels I know that he never goes to expense for the females he sleeps with.

When I come out of the Delta-class T-3c shuttle again, Orson sighs full of relief.

“Were you afraid that I would fly away with your ship?”

He shakes his head and answers with a half-laugh, “Berch would probably do something crazy like this, but not you. Your booty are hearts, not star ships.”

I have never meant to be the thief of his heart in the first place. All that I had seen about thirty-three years ago had been a baby boy in need of love and care. And so I had offered my service to him and his overtaxed parents.

In silence he leads me back to the farm house and my guests. For the rest of the day he acts like my shadow.

There is another predator around with much sharper eyes though. One that I can feel in the Force. Luckily, it is a person whose friendship I have won ages ago.

When the time seems right Mara helps me to have a suitable alibi.

With a picnic blanket tucked under my arm I take some birthday cake with me into the grass sea.

Like a brave little soldier Aurra camps out there. She is not dressed in her usual orange jump suite, but wears green army camouflage with a fitting hair ribbon.

Our last girl’s night on Coruscant seems an entire life time ago and not two weeks.

I unroll my blanket next to her and stay on for a while, but I keep an eye on my chrono.

Orson can be as dominant and bullheaded as a Reek from the planet Ylesia. If I am gone too long, he might forget his dislike of children and walk up the hill to check on me personally.

To share me with other people remains a great obstacle for him. Since our arrival on Chandrila he barely manages to be social. But when Crix asks to have some sibling time with me after dinner, he lets me go with no protest.

********************************************************************

In the rosy colours of dusk my Corellian foster brother and I walk over to the barn. Since early childhood days it has been one of my favourite places. It seems as if the Force itself walks around there, leaving either sun beams and shadows in its wake.

We get seated on a hay stack, placing a small energy lamp on the floor before us.

Orson is at the main house, helping my mother in the kitchen. We talk to one another with hushed voices anyway.

Soon our conversation is about the fall of the Jedi order. Crix mentions the bonfires the dead Jedi had been thrown into. “The grounds around the temple area were ankle-deep with ash, deposited like rain. I do not even know if anybody wrote the names of the deceased down before the flames ate them.”

My mouth turns unbelievingly dry. “Trust Sheev and his administrative skills. He had somebody to do all the dirty paper work for him. Numbers make him happy.”

We exchange a sad look.

Then I ask, while hugging my left knee, “Was there an official statement on Senator Amidala’s cause of death?”

Crix’ face darkens. “The Jedi were blamed.”

“This is not right!” I exclaim.

My foster brother puts a finger to his lips.

Somewhat sobered I add in a much more quiet tone, “Sheev cannot make people believe such ridiculous lies.”

“It is known that the Jedi order stole babies for centuries.” There is acid in his voice and I know it to be sarcasm. “Why is it so strange to claim they slaughtered a pregnant woman during their coup? Someone who enjoyed Palpatine’s favours since she got first elected as queen of the Naboo. Also, a big lie is always easier than selling a small one. People like stories as much as conspiracies.”

I hang my head. This is all to easy. “Have you spoken to Mothma about her friend’s sudden demise?”

His eyes narrow. “Why should I, of all people, talk to the senator of Chandrila?”

“Because you have a crush on her since that barn dance you both went to,” I giggle. “Drav told me about it.”

He places my free hand in between his large fingers. “Your insight serves you well, but it could be made to serve your uncle.”

“I will not betray you,” I insist, my cheeks but two burning flames.

“Not willingly, no.” He leans over to kiss my brow. “But it is better for you to forget a great deal of things, Turhaya.”

“You are thinking about leaving the Empire, right?”

He looks at me like a man torn between brotherly love and political loyalty. A feeling I have come to known all too well since the Battle of Geonosis. “What I want is not important,” he whispers. “Only what our galaxy needs matters. Mon and I talked about it.”

That they had split up to serve the fallen Republic makes me sad.

“We will try to revive old virtues. If your uncle was able to destroy the state from the inside out, we can do the same to his Empire.”

Right now Crix is the leader of one of the Empire’s most lethal and elite commando units. If he would defect right now, it would be too suspicious. For now his plan sounds reasonable.

********************************************************************

When Orson sees me entering the living-room about two standard hours later, his gaze softens and a smile curves his lips. He is in conversation with both Maxa Jandovar and Janet Lalasha. I can clearly tell that he shows my guests his smooth, polished self at present. He laughs a lot and it is like a warm hum filling the living-room.

A part of me is sorry that I have been constantly betraying him since we stepped on Chandrilan ground. Due to my intrigues he will have to face Sheev any time soon.

It is not my uncle that I fear though. It is more the reaction of the men around him. Of course I know that they some of them want me dead and gone.

“It is wise to fear death.”

This statement is softly worded. Brother Durante can be a very discrete and quiet man.

I clear my throat. “It is not my death that I fear.”

The Brother of Cognizance nods to that. His glance is solidly fixed on me.

_“Life and death, joy and sorrow, gain and loss; These dualities cannot be avoided. Learn to accept what you cannot change.”_

Amusement glimmers on my lips, because I know the source of his quote too well. “We had a similar discussion before,” I give back in the same hushed tone of voice.

“And yet you keep fearing the inevitable.” Regret is written all over his face. “Death waits for all of us, Cassandra. It is a question how we will meet him in our final hour. The person who is always involved in good deeds experiences incessant divine happiness.”

My heart turns over in a fluttery cartwheel.

Brother Durante reaches for my right hand, squeezes it reassuringly. “You made your choice a long time ago. The road has been rough on you, the journey painful. But in the end your sacrifices will be honoured. Love and friendship multiply, hate is a lonely business.”

“Can I ask you something?” I say before my courage is able to desert me any further.

He smiles, warmed by the intensity of my tone. “You can ask me anything you want. But I do not know if my answers can help you.”

“My uncle has not only studied the Sith and their ways...” I am speaking as calm as I can and the monk is studying me hard. “I wonder...”

“Ina!” My name grumbles roughly from Orson’s chest. “I hope I do not interrupt your confession a second time.”

“We were discussing the nature of the Force,” I answer in a stark voice.

“Good.” His killer smile is smug and self-assured, but I see lines etched on his forehead. His jaw is a bit tense. “I was wondering if you would grant me some quality time tomorrow. What about a picnic at Lake Sah'ot? Just you and me. Like in the old days.”

“Why not?” I prompt.

“Good.” Just one word, but it conveys a wealth of meaning to me. Relief. Joy. Love. He strokes a hand down my hair, smoothing the strands. “Your Reverence, please forgive me my rude interruption.”

With a nod towards Brother Durante he is gone again, leaving me in emotional uproar.

********************************************************************

That night Lor takes me wordlessly into his arms. I lean into his touch, almost starved for it. An entire day of waiting and wanting lies behind us. Soon only our bodies speak to one another. Our lips are occupied differently.

We have left the window wide open for Bathseba, who is hunting the nightly balm grass sea for squalls and other small mammals.

At her return she gives a a discrete screech.

My husband gives me another scorching kiss and gets up to shut the night out again.

While the convor gets comfortable on the wardrobe again, he hurries back into bed. His skin is not cold at all. Chandrila is a world with perfect climate. It’s native citizens are mostly unfamiliar with the everyday struggles of life in less comfortable environments like Jedha or Tatooine.

“A credit for your thoughts,” Lor muses into my left ear, most of my body trapped between his long legs.

“I was actually thinking that you and General Skywalker are both from desert worlds.”

He chuckles. “That is all that we ever shared, Nagina. Mistress Nu was a bit frustrated with him. Why she would not tell.”

“Perhaps he never returned library property on time,” I joke back.

“Now that both are gone, we will never know.” He gently leans his chin on my right shoulder, hugging me from behind.

“If Orson will allow me to seek out the grave of Shmi Skywalker,” I wonder and feel my husband’s body tighten.

“Please do not push your luck!” he begs me. “You are already allowed to see the mausoleum of Senator Amidala. Who ever killed her will not be lucky when you start sneaking around. Boba and I spoke about it today.”

I blink into the darkness, that is only illuminated by Bathseba’s eyes. “Boba is here?”

“You made yourself his adoptive mother a couple of years ago. Of course he is on Chandrila for your birthday celebrations. He is right out there, together with your other bounty hunter friend. Aurra Sing, right?”

Nervously, I wiggle my right foot around. “Did you tell him about our marriage?”

“Not without your permission, no. But he might have an idea or two since he has binoculars and a pretty good view on this bedroom window.”

I press a hand against my mouth. “He might have just seen you.”

There it is, another carefree chuckle. “He might have. But then again, he knows how a naked man looks like.”

“Oh no!”

Suddenly, I wish that Gita and Chetan would have taken care to install curtains in front of their bedroom window.

Lor leans more into me, his body melting like liquid satin over my skin. “Relax, Nagina!” He nuzzles into my hair. “Boba is a thirteen year old who has travelled this galaxy a lot. I bet he has even been to Nar Shadda or the court of Jabba the Hutt a lot of times. That would include half-naked Twi’lek dancing girls.”

Blushing, I let my husband comfort me in sweet ways.

********************************************************************

The next day around noon I spot Boba sneaking over the property. He wears civilian clothing instead of his usual Mandalorian battle armour. His stride has a certain urgency to it. I am not surprised to see that he is heading straight towards the privy. Via Mara I have sent him and Aurra a lot of left overs from today’s breakfast buffet, including a large coffee pot.

Grinning, I walk closer towards the privy. I knock at the door as hard as I can. _“Ke'sush!”_ I bark, giving him the good old army command. _Attention!_

There is annoyed silence for several heartbeats, then the teenager grumbles from the inside, _“Usenye, me’suum’ika!”_ He sighs loudly. _“Go away, moon/ little planet!”_

_“Copaani gaan?”_ I joke towards the locked door. _Need a hand?_

“This is odd!” Boba points out. “I hope you are aware of that.”

I lean against the door. “Any success on the Erso family yet?” I demand to know.

“If you pose that question any louder, Krennic might hear you and you can ask him personally,” Boba purrs in a dangerously low tone. “Besides, I am not working on any missions right now. Because I am sort of busy in here. At least I am trying to be...”

I step away from the privy for a good while, a big grin still plastered on my face. Due to my night with Lor I am in a playful and silly mood.

“Kindergarten teachers have privacy issues, don’t they?” Boba finally states, acid swinging in his voice. “You are worse than a torturer.”

“Sorry,” I mumble, not meaning it.

He snorts. “Just make sure to check Krennic’s location before I leave this place. I do not want my cover to be blown like this. Besides, I just used the last bit of toilet paper.”

There is a rumbling noise.

“And that was the last bit of sanitizer, I am afraid.”

“I will tell Gita about it,” I promise.

“We could use this place as a drop.”

Realising, how funny his words are, he breaks out in laughter. It takes him a while before he can pull himself together again.

“Boys!” I comment loud enough for Boba to hear me.

Suddenly, I spot Orson coming out of the barn. Since there is no way of hiding, I start waving. He gestures me to meet at the house when I am ready. He is in a very good mood.

When Orson is gone, I start wailing, “I am the worst spy ever!”

Boba opens the door, a mischievous grin on his lips. “No, there are actually folk worse than you. You’d be surprised.”

We hug briefly.

“Now listen, crazy woman, Galen Erso’s research is classified. If I dig too deep, it might alert your uncle or worse.”

I bite my lips. “You mean Sate and his gangrenous gang.”

“Even worse.” His gaze clouds. “This Jakku sand rat starts to feel bothered.”

“Galli.”

“Yes, Gallius Rex indeed.” His hands reach for my face and frame it. “I would do everything for you, but I will leave this matter alone. And I advice you not to draw Madine, Draven or Teller into it either. It’s too hot a matter.”

“We are talking about a giant battle station that...”

“No more!” He presses a finger on my lips, silencing them. “I do not need to hear that. Politics was never my thing. The Clone Wars and their outcome made that clear to me. From now on I will sell my services to the highest bidder and ask no more questions than necessary.”

“And you call that life?” I bite out.

“It is a question of survival.” Anger laces his young voice and he takes a considerate step back. “Besides, I need to survive for two people here. You seem to have that constant death wish.”

We stare at one another, exhausted.

Then Boba takes my face into his hands again and leans his brow against mine. _“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum.”_ He announces out of the blue. _I love you._

I blink at him.

“It is not easy for me to admit something big like that. Normally, I do not do emotions. Not the gentle ones anyway. They are not the shape of my heart.”

I stare ahead of me, remembering an odd quote from the days of the Old Republic. _“Mhi dralshy'an tracrah nau inyas!”_ I whisper darkly. _We burn the night sky with our flames._

His brown eyes burn into mine. “You cannot save the entire galaxy from the evil plans your uncle carries in his heart. Please learn to save yourself! For my sake. You battle-adopted me, remember? Besides you I have no parent left.”

Feverishly, I search for words of comfort. But I find none, because I cannot lie to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> Quote from the Ramayana (book 2)  
> The Rig Veda  
> The website mandoa.org  
> The website swc-mandalore.com  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia 
> 
> Inspirational song for this chapter:  
> The score “What are you asking of me?” from the movie “The village” (2004) by James Newton Howard


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32:**

The next day some of the guests have to leave for their home worlds already, including Maxa Jandovar and Janet Lalasha. They bonded during my birthday party and decided to have a spontaneous gig in the Corellian sector.

I hug and kiss both women, hoping they will stay okay for a very long time.

Sheev’s gang might have the first death warrants for Jizz artists ready. In a tyranny free thinking is punishable. Musicians will not be the only ones who will turn into undesired individuals. Soon painters and sculptures of any kind might follow in their wake. I am certain of it.

While I wave at the staring ship, Orson is in the kitchen organizing our planned picnic.

Not much later Dalus Othona takes his leave from me. He has duties to attend to on his home world of Alderaan.

While Sheltay Retrac, the senatorial aid of Bail Organa, brings the old man’s travel bags downstairs, I gaze at her most important belonging in wonderment. She left it on the veranda.

From the shadows of a in a child restraint seat a magnificent pair of baby eyes gazes at me. They remind me of the Juran mountain peaks. Of crispy blue glacier ice.

My heart misses a beat or two.

“Her name is Winter,” the proud mother announces. “This is her first undercover mission. In so far she is doing great. Apart from the occasional full nappies and winds that is.”

“Gas pain is horrible for such a young infant,” I say full of compassion. “She stayed unbelievingly quiet. I did not even notice that you had her with you.”

A smile splits the usually composed face of Sheltay Retrac. “She has that from her father. He can sit in the grass sea for hours and hours, composing his miracles. You see, he is a grass painter.”

Ob Khaddor, a famous Alderaanian artist, comes to mind immediately, but as a Naboo I am to polite to make any inquiries about him as the possible father. Instead I remark, “Was Winter in pain before you came to Lothal?”

The light-skinned woman shakes her head.

“Perhaps it’s a case of microbial imbalance. Your daughter might not like the rich Chandrilan farmer food she receives via your milk.”

“That might be a good explanation.”

I spot Orson who is walking around the house, proudly carrying a picnic basket. He beams like the sweet, adorable boy he used to be decades ago. His steps are slow.

“Please give Senator Organa my regards!” I say in a rush. “And thank him for his special birthday present!”

“It was a pleasure for me to deliver Mister San Tekka into safety.” Sadness creeps into the brown eyes of my opposite. “I fear my own husband will soon lead the life of a fugitive, too. He won’t be able to avert his eyes from all the evil that Palpatine creates in our galaxy.”

I look down at Winter, so small and helpless.

“But do not be afraid, Mistress Samye,” the senatorial aide addresses me by Barin’s family name. “If anything happens to me or my husband, the queen will take my baby girl in. Her own little girl needs company anyway.”

“There is a baby?” I inquire, happy for Bail and Breha.

“They adopted,” says Sheltay Retrac quickly. “A poor little soul from Coruscant who lost both of her parents in the chaos that followed the purge of the Jedi temple.”

Orson is almost in hearing rage.

“Take care!” I sigh.

“I will. Because I will give the like of Krennic a good fight before I go down,” the Alderaanian woman says under her breath and hurries off to help my former university provost upstairs.

“Ina, can we go?” asks Orson.

“Just waving Master Othona out.”

He frowns. “Perhaps I should send a petition in that we banish the term 'Master' from the Basic language altogether. It reminds me too much of the Jedi order.”

I blush, fighting my anger that bubbles up in me like swamp gas.

Orson looks down at Winter. “Somebody lost their off-spring.”

“That is the grand-daughter of Master Othona,” I lie.

He frowns. “I can see no particular familiarity in their faces.”

“You do not look like any of your grand parents either,” I prompt.

“Bah, do not remind me of those old creepers! All of them were in this sect who worshipped the Force. Ridiculous!”

“Do you think you can manage to let us have a nice day together?” I ask sharply.

He blushes a bit. “Of course, Ina dear. But the very mentioning of the Force always makes me angry. It should not be the guide line for any faith system. Mathematical formulas are so much clearer and true.”

********************************************************************

Our day at Lake Sah'ot is blissful, even though Orson sings a murder ballad to me. His idea of entertainment is not mine. Sheev, in all his dark glory and cruelty, would have managed much better.

Gazing at Orson, I realize that I know too much about darkness altogether. And I fight it the only way that I know of. With kindness and endurance. But my heart is not as pure as it used to be. Too many dirty battles lie behind me and I am still not done fighting.

Insisting that Orson keeps his word to me, we fly to Wobani. The working camp there is a parable of the state our Sith-ruled galaxy is in. Overcrowded cells, miserable health care and hygiene. Even Mos Eisley is cheerful compared to the dull place where the Empire keeps Bay.

My foster brother, now named 'Prisoner 1827', is glad to see me. It remains a short reunion though. Orson insists on keeping to our travelling schedule. But I am able to demand more liberties for Bay.

We are already boarding the Delta-class T-3c shuttle, when Orson’s comlink signals an incoming call. Paling, he answers it and passes the com on to me.

“Your uncle wants a word with you.”

“I do not talk to narcissistic tyrants today,” I clip out, remembering the patched up wounds on Bay’s body too well. “He can try tomorrow, when I am in a better mood again.”

His facial lines are stricken. “Now,” he says and I know that he only repeats what Sheev just barked at him.

I start speaking before I adjust the com to my own head. “Once upon a time there was a Sith lord named Darth Cognus.”

Sheev grumbles deeply into my ear before he says with a much lighter voice, “The Huntress became the hunted in the end, Nagina.”

With heavy steps I walk up the ramp. “Are you saying that my hunt for answers is over?”

“I am not your enemy,” he pleads. “There are others.”

“Then let them come and face me,” I shout, startling Orson with my rant.

“If you go on like this I cannot protect you any longer.” Sadness drenches his throaty voice. “Stop seeking justice! My Empire has none to offer.”

“Then you are not all powerful?” I mock him.

“You are all what is left of my humanity, Nagina,” he answers matter-of-factly.

I run a hand over my tired eyes, the pictures of the Wobani working camp still painted on my retina. “The ultimate price that every Sith apprentice has to sacrifice on the altar of the dark side,... have you not paid it yet?”

“I thought I already had as a child, but you remind me daily what is at stake.” He pauses, just to steel his voice. “You will not repeat your actions of the past days. Just visit the mausoleum and go home.”

“Home?” I yelp.

“Home is were the heart is. Mine is with you. Do not end up broken!”

“You sound like the giant who had to hid his heart in a golden egg and...”

“I do not need a fairy tale, Nagina!” he snarls. “I need you to keep in line and do not test out your political power like today. Bay was a step too far.”

“He was almost beaten to death before my arrival.” A hysterical sob escapes me. “Don’t you dare talking to me about my power!”

“You achieved more havoc since you are with Krennic than I ever thought possible.” Despite saying that my uncle sounds tender and somewhat proud. “I should take his project away from him for loving you too much. Instead of pampering you, he should have stopped you.”

“Now you have become a true Sith,” I state without joy. “You punish love like a crime.”

“Just visit Amidala’s resting place and return to Lothal,” he whispers.

One corner of my mouth lifts and I quote Darth Bane, “What can you offer me in return?”

For a long time I can only hear Orson’s quickened heart beat next to me, then Sheev answers reverently, “Loyalty. Devotion.”

Even though these words are those of a long dead Iktochi, my uncle means them by heart. He still has one. Only I am aware of it. Of the conflict that is eating him up piece by piece.

I close off the line.

“You-you hang up on the Emperor?” Orson stutters.

“To me he will always remain Sheev.”

I say no further word until we reach the air space above Naboo. Of course Orson tries to make me speak. He begs, he threatens. But to no avail. My face is like the surface of Wobani: barren and hostile.

********************************************************************

 The first tear drops on the controls when I behold the Lake District. An unstoppable force.

After leaving Bay behind in this living nightmare called 'Imperial Labour camp' I thought that I would have no more tears left. Once more I am utterly mistaken.

Orson is startled, and begins talking to me in a soothing, sweet way. But as soon as we are out in the whispering grass sea, Bathseba soaring high above us, he shows me his deep rooted loyalty to the Empire. His words hit me like blaster bolts. There is not much I can do for him. Not even a tiny conflict exists in his heart. He believes to be on the right side and is willing to smite the wicked. And my uncle will give him the power to murder and to maim.

The Clone Wars have very effectively corrupted the majority of the galaxy in the most dreadful way. Eyes and souls are blinded by darkness.

When Orson finally walks me into his ship again, Bathseba sits down on my right shoulder. The touch of her talons brings forth an old Naboo prayer in me:

_“This life, you must know_   
_as the tiny splash of a raindrop._

_A thing of beauty that disappears_   
_as it comes into being._

_Therefore, set your goal._   
_Make use of every day and every night.”_

My goal is simple. I want to keeping fighting for balance and justice.

Darth Maul, my very unlike childhood companion, once said to me, “Through victory my chains are broken. The chains. The chains are the easy part. It's what goes on in here that's hard.”

Back then I did not comprehend the true meaning of his words. “Oh, Mauly,” I sigh as I step into the last resting place of Padmé, while Orson stays at the gate.

********************************************************************

I am in the middle of a traditional Naboo prayer for the Dead, when I feel him standing right next behind me. He is like a cold breeze on my skin, throwing a shadow on my soul.

“The keeper has left his keep. Make sure Sheev does not find out,” I comment, not willing to open my eyes. It is hard to see what has become of the desert boy he used to be.

“You always demanded extreme actions from others, _moon child_ ,” Gallius Rex answers, the anger in his voice as hot as Jakku’s sand.

“I hate you, too,” I reply in honesty with more more calmness because there is no point in lying to my uncle’s special henchman.

“You have no idea what you are dealing with!”

“I have a vast imagination, Galli. Always had,” I say and look into a face that is hidden in the shadows of a hooded cloak. He has grown so much already.

“You know nothing. Apart from causing difficulties.” He makes a vast gesture with his well-manicured hands, but the decay from within is visible for me anyway. “Coming here was a mistake. The last one in a long chain of mistakes.”

“Mistress Skywalker was a Naboo and so am I,” I say unblinkingly.

“You were not supposed to know about that marriage.” His displeasure comes over me in waves of anger.

“It would have been vital for the Jedi Council to know. Emotional blackmail is but one of my uncle’s specialities.” I keep my fingers resting on the ledger, drawing strength from it. “Sith sorcery also is.”

“He had nothing to do with her death,” Gallius Rex insists, his displeasure vibrant in the air between us.

“Keep telling that yourself.” I gaze at the fresh Millaflowers that someone has put into the large vases all around the room. “He basically turned our galaxy into a graveyard, but I feel that this is the centre of sorrow.”

He grunts like a rancor and I find myself being pressed down onto the cool ledger. “Stop assuming! You are out of your league already, Nagina!”

There is no resistance from me, but somebody else comes to the rescue.

“Let go of the lady!” Orson gives to consider, while holding his blaster against Gallius’ hooded features. “I do not care who you are or where you are from. This is holy ground and you stain it with your violence.”

“And you don’t?” my uncle’s henchman laughs without joy.

“This is put on stun only, pal! But let me assure you that I will not be very forgiving once I dragged you out of here.” Orson’s eyes are blue flames. “Leave now or not even the Emperor will recognize your face in the morgue.”

“You asked for it, Nagina,” whispers Gallius Rex and sets me free. “No matter where you go, I will find you and crush all your hopes.”

“ _Nothing is forgotten_ ,” I assure him. “ _Nothing is ever forgotten_ , Galli. You will not be able to extinguish all the lights I have lit the past weeks. The torches will be passed on, sometimes more secret and at others more open. My life means nothing. The Force is the final reality.”

The hand on my shoulder trembles slightly. It belongs to Orson. “Are you okay, Ina?”

“Thank you and now put your gun away and stay with me.”

“Of course.”

How Gallius Rex leaves and when is of no significance. The only thing that matters is my last tribute to the woman who was put to rest here.

“She was pregnant, you know?” I say, tears strangulating me like a belt around my throat.

“You might have mentioned that on Scarif already,” muses Orson, not letting go of my shoulder.

“I hope for Padmé that her husband and her baby waited for her on the other side.”

Suddenly, all the candles go out.

“Ina, let us have some tea and cookies in town.” The discomfort of Orson is palpable. “We can even walk to the local temple of your moon goddess.”

I throw myself into his arms, almost unbalancing him. “I would like that very much.”

********************************************************************

With Orson by my side I walk the roads of a city that is still familiar to me. But I have been estranged from Theed for too long. Besides, there is little joy in my heart after having been at Padmé’s mausoleum. It is a peaceful and dignified place nevertheless. The Naberrie family chose well.

“I hope the Force united Padmé and her Anakin in death,” I whisper as we gaze down the Virdugo Plunge.

On the other side of the river I can spot the Theed Hanger, where General Skywalker changed the fate of my home world decades ago. He was but a boy of nine years when he flew a star ship into battle.

Orson’s eyes are fixed on the roaring water masses. He has not listened to me, which is good. The Force means nothing to him. It never will. He has the cold, analytical view of a scientist.

“We Naboo know what it means to sacrifice ourselves to a greater goal,” I move on, tasting a drop of water on my underlip. It is a sign. I am not a total fool. This is the River of the Dead after all.

I might have days, months, year’s even. But I can feel it since Galli’s hands brought me down. The shroud of the dark side has fallen. Those who serve it fail to recognize the triumph of the light though.

_“I am a strong woman_   
_I am a story woman_   
_I am… a teacher_   
_My soul will never die.”_

My words have been more than dust in the wind the past weeks. They have been my weapon against the Galactic Empire. I have strewn them between here and Coruscant like seeds. Sheev will see my harvest at one point.

“Can we go?” Orson roars against the noise of the waterfall. “I really want those cookies now.”

********************************************************************

 The main temple of Shiraya is unchanged by time and the government of our galaxy. There are pretty flowers and life everywhere. Once Orson is settled down with a cup of tea and a generous amount of cookies, I am allowed to roam around on my own.

My lips start preforming a chant of my sisterhood.

“We are the flow  
We are the ebb  
We are the weavers  
We are the web”

When the pontifex himself places a hand on my shoulder, I am not surprised. “Nagina, child,” he booms in his melodic voice, “News of you travel faster than a ray of light.”

“The darkness is always one inch behind me,” I give to consider.

His kind, bearded face shows sadness and sympathy alike. “Shiraya will always protect her kind from the hateful hands of the blind.”

“To a certain extend, Father.” I kneel down while saying so. “Please give me your blessing, because the darkness might catch up with me and claim me soon!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> Tibetan Prayer by Tsongkhapa  
> Changed lines of a Wiccan song  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia 
> 
> Inspirational song for this chapter:  
> Tibetan Buddhist Chants of Namgyal Monastery


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33:**

After a while I can feel Orson’s piercing eyes on us, but I keep kneeling in front of Maxiron Agolerga and never cease speaking. When I am finished, the old man places a trembling hand on my head.

_“And death shall have no dominion.”_

This is not the blessing I have come for. These are the beginning lines of a favourite poem of mine.

Alert, I gaze up at the pontifex.

_“Dead man naked they shall be one_   
_With the man in the wind and the west moon;_   
_When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,_   
_They shall have stars at elbow and foot;_   
_Though they go mad they shall be sane,_   
_Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;_   
_Though lovers be lost love shall not;_   
_And death shall have no dominion.”_

Maxiron Agolerga has trouble speaking, because his voice is drenched in tears, but I know each line of the ancient lyrical text by heart. Actually, there are so many texts stored deep inside me. My new husband, Lor San Tekka, knows most of them, too.

_“And death shall have no dominion._   
_Under the windings of the sea_   
_They lying long shall not die windily;_   
_Twisting on racks when sinews give way,_   
_Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;_   
_Faith in their hands shall snap in two,_   
_And the unicorn evils run them through;_   
_Split all ends up they shan't crack;_   
_And death shall have no dominion.”_

Suddenly, Orson is at my side. I can feel the heat of his irritation. He is like a kyber crystal ready to explode.

I raise a hand to keep him at distance. It is essential for the pontifex to finish his speech to me.

_“And death shall have no dominion._   
_No more may gulls cry at their ears_   
_Or waves break loud on the seashores;_   
_Where blew a flower may a flower no more_   
_Lift its head to the blows of the rain;_   
_Though they be mad and dead as nails,_   
_Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;_   
_Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,_   
_And death shall have no dominion.”_

Hands grasp my shoulders, radiating unbelievable heat. “What is the meaning of this? Why are you both crying?”

We gaze at Orson in sadness. “I demand…,” he starts.

The light of the Force surrounds Maxiron Agolerga and he seems to grow three times taller. With all the authority of his office he booms, “The sacrifice is accepted, but it might not achieve much.”

Alarm is written all over Orson’s haggard face. “Sacrifice? What are we talking about here?”

Brown eyes take him in, displaying pity. “Only a scion of House Palpatine is worthy of carrying the torch of Grianán Tjiehennet on into this millennium, my son!”

“I am not your son,” protests Orson. “And I will take Ina here and we will be off! Now! I have enough of hokey religions and ancient weapons.”

His rant means nothing to me, because I have just made a deal with the goddess that I serve.

Out of nowhere Bathseba appears, making Maxiron Agolerga gaze at her with big eyes.

“It is you again, bird of doom!” sneers Orson. “How good of you to return to your mistress. Otherwise I would have left you behind. Hurry the freck up! We’re leaving!”

With the strength of a dozen banthas Orson drags me with him, out of the temple garden, out of Shiraya’s house. I do not protest. Not even when I am strapped into my co-pilot seat and we go into light speed.

“I am a very patient man, Ina. More patient than people believe me to be. But I am very protective of the things that are mine.”

There will be no visit on Tatooine for me. Of that I am sure.

“I will double my efforts to keep you from harm. Your list of enemies might be long, but my protective arm is even longer. I fear you have to rethink your life.”

There is nothing I can retort. Nothing.

We travel in absolute silence.

When we drop out of hyperspace into real time again, I am faced with Lothal.

It could have been worse, much worse.

“You’re home now,” Orson says.

Bathseba, nestled on top of the neck-support of my seat, chirps softly in agreement.

********************************************************************

Without hesitance, Orson lands at the edge of Jhotal, the settlement that is my new home area. He brings me straight to my little cottage, while the convor flies off. Obviously, Bathseba wants to hunt in the grass sea.

My garden is in full bloom and I might owe this miracle to Old Jho, my Ithorian neighbour.

The garden gate closes behind me and I turn to face the man, who has adopted me as his sister a long time ago.

“I need to see some important people in Capital City,” Orson announces from the other side of the fence. “Plus I have to contact the Death Troopers that are assigned to me.”

Wordlessly, I take it all in. His furrowed brow, the silver threads in his brown hair, the steel in his bright eyes and the hard lines around his mouth.

“Do not, I repeat, do not leave this property! I won’t be long!”

He leans over the gate to kiss me, like a brother would. His panic, his love for me are overwhelming.

On his way to his ship, he looks back several times. Each gaze from him more hurt, more forlorn. His pain shreds me to pieces, but there is nothing I can offer him in return. I cannot, will not back off my deal.

My spare keys are still under a flower pot in the entrance area.

But once I turned them and opened the door, I cannot walk inside. Only memories await me in there. Of Lor. Of Barin. Of Sheev.

Instead, I sit down on the lawn, enjoy the life that I have planted some weeks ago with Old Jho’s help. The sun shines down on me, stroking me with her fingers of light.

“Mistress Samye?” asks a metallic sounding voice.

********************************************************************

The masked man before me looks very much like a clone trooper. But there are no colourful markings on him. Neither at the helmet nor on the armour itself. He is just donned in white with some black showing off here and there.

“I am to bring you to Capital City immediately!”

I have the nerve to remain seated. “Lieutenant Commander Krennic ordered me to stay here! I would hate very much to upset him.”

In consideration the soldier moves his head. But it is not me that he is talking to. “Sir?”

Somebody inside his helmet comlink barks orders at him.

“Commander Krennic has no say on this planet!” says the trooper aloud. “I am ordered to take you with me. Against your will if necessary!”

“Please tell your officer of the day, that I have rather him coming to see me!” I answer friendly. “Otherwise I will evoke 'Operation: Cinder'.”

There is a brief pause, before the soldier gives back, “Mistress Samye does not cooperate, Sir. I am to tell you that she will evoke 'Operation: Cinder' instead.”

The answer comes immediately.

The trooper gives a jerk. “Alex, I can’t...”

With trembling hands the soldier takes off his bulky helmet and reveals a young and vulnerable face. A white male in his early twenties looks at me. “My mate wants to talk to you, madame!”

Giggling, I put on the helmet that is sweaty and even a bit musty from the inside. “Yes, please?”

“Who are you?” the definitely male voice on the other side wants to know. It has a profound Coruscanti accent.

“Ask my god father Sate Pestage, or even better my uncle Sheev himself.”

There is a sharp intake of breath. “I am coming for you, madame. I shall get to the bottom of this. It will be either your undoing or mine.”

“If you want to join this crying game at the beginning of your military career,” I offer carefully. “But I would hate to die very confused. Might I know your name, sir?”

To my surprise he chuckles, “Officer Cadet Kallus. But you might address me as Alexsandr.”

Bathseba makes a cheerful sound high above my garden. Of course she has listened into every that has been going on here on the ground. The Force is strong with her and her judgement of people even better. For centuries she has lived in the walls of the temple of the Whills. The constant song of the kyber crystals embedded here have taught her to see with her heart.

“He will not harm me, I suppose?” I ask.

She sails down, finally gets comfortable on my right shoulder. I must say she looks smug.

“I actually never asked, do you like Loth-cats?”

Her beak opens to make a sound that equals laughter.

“And what is your name, sir?” I ask the soldier who still stares as me like a child would at an evil fairy tale witch.

“That is classified, mam,” he stutters.

“Very well.” I flash a bright smile at him. “Stand down, soldier. Your job is done. You can go home.”

He remains where he is puzzled.

“Suit yourself,” I sigh. “For I certainly will.”

When I lie down in the grass again, Bathseba hops on my belly and makes herself comfortable in my lap. She does so with greatest care. Her talons, that might have shred insects or small mammals earlier on, mean no harm to me. They never will. Nor will her prehensile tail that swings around lazily for a while, until it comes to an absolute standstill.

“Thank you,” I whisper to the ancient convor, who has given up so much for me back on Jedha.

********************************************************************

Officer Cadet Kallus is a man of action and not a person pulling the levers. About one hour later he arrives on a speeder bike. He is on his own.

I protect my eyes against the sun, while I try to take him in.

A dark grey helmet with holes covers most of his straw-blond hair. Its front has a face plate covering the cheeks leaving the mouth and nose clearly visible. Ear blocks are fixed on the side.

I smile at my visitor because of Dravits. My younger foster brother has a similar outfit when he is on ISB duty. “Let me guess,” I state as I walk towards the young soldier, “You are still training at the newly founded Royal Imperial Academy.”

His smile is thin and careful, but it is mirrored in his eyes. “You are well informed.”

“You on the other hand seem to know very little about me,” I answer and make an inviting gesture towards my house.

He follows me in silence, observing the scenery with the eyes of an expert. “You live very humble.”

“I am his niece, not one of his many lovers,” I offer. “Sheev knows that I want to work hard for my money and would hate to live off public tax money.”

Officer Cadet Kallus scans my face. “You look nothing like him.”

“Not even before the Jedi attack, no,” I joke. “If there was ever such an incident.”

Something flashes in his eyes. “They tried to kill him: Mace Windu, Kit Fisto, Gen Solar and Sees Tiin.”

“Honestly?” I frown. “I would say those brave men rather tried to arrest my uncle for his war crimes against the Republic. He drew his own light sabre and things got out of hand. To act civilised is difficult for him when he is in a temper. For he is a Sith lord.”

“I could get you into jail for a comment like this,” Officer Cadet Kallus says without joy.

“Sheev knows what I think about his politics and hobbies. But you certainly can try to arrest me. I have never gotten arrested before. This might be the very interesting closure to a long day.”

He shakes his head, his body as stiff as his military uniform with his dark grey body armour. “I am willing to spare you this experience, milady.”

“I am not much of a lady,” I confess. “Just a fatherless child, born to a bastard daughter of House Palpatine.”

“Yet you live,” remarks Officer Cadet Kallus. “While everybody else is missing since decades.”

“You will never find their bodies. Believe me!”

“Nor do I care what happened,” he throws back at me. “Sometimes it is better to leave the past behind.”

“I am surrounded by shadows of the past all the time,” I mutter.

“You are allowed to live,” he corrects me and there is a soft undertone in his voice. “The Emperor can be a generous and forgiving man as it seems.”

I roll my eyes. “But he can be ruthless anyway.”

“Permission to speak my mind freely, milady?” Officer Cadet Kallus asks straight out.

“If you must...”

He towers above me, reminding me of Dravits once more. A friendly giant, who would do all to protect the government that he serves. Such fierce loyalty, forged in the Clone Wars already. “You are here on Lothal for a reason. Never forget that.”

“But not the reason you thought it to be,” I inquire.

“I was told to investigate in Krennic’s recent space journeys. There was an anonymous blackmail. One of my superiors at the Academy came to me one week ago and ordered me to follow the ST 149 and his owner by any means. This brought me straight to you, the piece of the puzzle that would not fit in. No matter how hard I tried.”

An idea comes to mind. “Tarkin must be really mad with Orson when he asks Yularen to spy on him.”

The shadows under his eyes darken. “There was the reproach of tax offences and the private use of military property.”

I reach up and touch his chin. “Be very afraid for your future now, Alexsandr! You have become the toy ball of mighty men. If you betray the Larking gang, you will suffer the consequences. And if you try to play games with my uncle...”

Gently, he wipes away my fingers. “I was among the first cadets to swear an oath to the Emperor. Indirectly, I swore one to you as well, even though you are a threat to him.”

My smile is sad, wistful almost. “I will ask Sheev to protect you, but I am afraid that he will fail you as much as he has failed me my entire life. His games of power and control destroy lives. He cannot help it. Like a spider he sits in the middle of a web that is not his any more, even though he has woven each thread of it. His own breed will devour him if he shows any signs of weakness.”

Chirping, Bathseba sails by and, in beautiful loops, lands on my head.

It costs me a lot of energy, to press Kallus’ blaster down with both hands.

“This is my friend. Not an enemy,” I claim, my brow sweaty. “If you learn the difference, dear Alexsandr, it might save your life one day.”

********************************************************************

Orson finds us eating Wookie cookies and having a cup of Chandrilan tea together. “What is the meaning of this?” he thunders.

“They have sent a dispensable cadet to get killed by your ire,” I explain with no great haste. “But if you play it cool Alexsandr Kallus might become a loyal partner in crime.”

Whether the officer cadet likes my simplified explanation or not is hard to tell. He looks Orson straight in the eyes, fearless and calm.

“Whatever!” my old childhood comrade curses and slumps down on the kitchen chair I offer him.

“Have a cookie!”

Orson grabs my hands and drags me on his lap like some naughty little girl. “Ina, you could have gotten killed in my absence.”

“Silly me. I thought you and Officer Cadet Kallus here where the good guys. Imperial officers with a sense of duty and morals.”

Our brows collide with such an impact that I fear to have gotten a mild concussion just right now. “Stop playing games! This is not funny anymore. Your enemies are legion.”

“Actually, I believe Tarkin to be behind today’s events. He might be under the impression that we are lovers.”

“Argh!” grunts Orson and shoves me away from his lap. Then he glares at Kallus. “What was in it for you anyway, sonny?”

“I got promoted.”

“Is that so?” I feel how Orson’s entire body tenses. “And where do your loyalties lie?”

“With the Emperor.” The officer cadet nods my way. “And this includes his niece.”

“Oh, Ina. Why do you spit this secret out like sunflower seeds?” Orson rolls his eyes. “My kill-list gets longer and longer each day.”

“If you would have listened to Kallus, you would understand that my secret is save with him. He hates disorder and rebellious activity as much as you do. And very much like you he has made it his life’s work to ensure stability within the Empire.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> “And death shall have no dominion”, a poem written by Welsh poet Dylan Thomas (1914–1953)  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia 
> 
> Inspirational song for this chapter:  
> The score “Cora” for the movie “The Last of the Mohicans” composed by Randy Edelman and Trevor Jones (1992)


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34:**

Since I have four more weeks left before the new kindergarten year starts here on Lothal, I fill out my time by taking care of my garden. This helps me to relax and concentrate fully on the concept of the Living Force. The past is unchangeable anyway. I can only learn my dire lessons. Sheev always has been a harsh teacher to me, unwillingly or not. The result is the same.

And so I dig my fingers deep into the soft soil and feel it – the light, the darkness and the balance between the two.

I plant Naboo greenery, groceries from Chandrila and also flowers from Alderaan. But there are also seeds from Corellia and Coruscant.

With a big smile I also liberate the tree that Xizor has given to me. Under my special care he thrives within several days, unnoticed by Orson.

My personal guardian angel, dressed in plain-clothes, basically hangs around in a garden chair and tries to do home office from there. Each time there is comlink call, he rushes into the cottage and locks himself up in the toilet.

It is not only Sheev who is keen on talking to Orson. Some of the members of the so-called 'Tarkin Initiative' also contact him, foremost Galen Erso and Tarkin himself.

I make a mental note to contact Dravits about it as soon as my close monitoring is less intrusive.

Asking Boba if he has made up his stubborn Mandalorian mind about the entire affair is hopeless. His denial is something that I need to respect. He thinks he owes me for what happened after the massacre in the Petranaki arena on Geonosis. Fact is that I am deeply indebted to him in return. The battle adoption works both ways.

Under the sun of Lothal I work my time away. Some times Old Jho comes over and offers a helping hand. Orson is civil enough to let him enter my property, but he listens into all our conversations.

“I am uncomfortable with this leatherneck,” he says one evening after closing the front door and locking us in.

“Orson Callan Krennic.” I put my hand on my hips. “Never use such abusive language around me again!”

“C’mon, luv!” He shrugs, looking slightly embarrassed. “He ain’t exactly a great beauty.”

“Never judge anybody by their looks!” I give to consider.

“Not even a dirty Hutt?” Orson tries to argue.

“I actually know a very cute little huttling named Rotta.”

His eyes almost bulge out of their sockets. “You are familiar with the son of the notorious Jabba Desilijic Tiure?”

“My uncle had him kidnapped by Count Dooku, hoping that I would not find out about that.”

Orson smirks. “Do I really need to know the story? Because it sounds very classified to me.”

“The truth can make you free,” I offer carefully.

He takes four large steps towards me and engulfs me in a big hug. “Nope. I like my life as it is. Since you are back in it, it is even more colourful and exciting.”

I lean my brow against his chest. “If I am that disturbing, you should simply shoot me...”

One of his large hands comes down on my neck, while the other one pulls me closer against him. “Stop right here, Ina. This bantha poodoo should not leave your sweet mouth. You are life to me.”

“Your work is your life and one day it will be your undoing.”

He takes a considerate step back, fear written all over his face. “Are you threatening me?”

“You and your precious think tank folk mess around with a holy life form. Those kyber crystals are alive. There will be a reckoning.”

He raises an eyebrow and amusement floods his eyes. “Religious beliefs, even yours, will not stop the greatest project of my life.”

“Dearth of labourers and shortage of material can delay your plans,” I say with a bright smile.

The shadow of a frown mares his face. “Do not wrack your pretty head about it, Ina dear! And now let us have dinner without pointless bickering, okay?”

“I take it that Officer Cadet Kallus will not join us tonight then?” I probe.

He sighs, looking weary. “As charming as he is, no he won’t. I am afraid you have to deal with me. Sometimes the workings of this empire mystify me.”

********************************************************************

The next morning Orson is called to an off-world emergency meeting with Tarkin. I brace myself for the onslaught immediately. There is not much that I can do. I drag the rocking chair towards the window that gives the best view on the garden gate.

Tasia, my white Loth-Cat, hops on my lap. It had taken her one week to snap out of her dark mood. This is not about having to share me with an avian life form all of a sudden. For her taste I have been on holidays for too long.

I smile to myself.

Feline creatures are known to be difficult when it comes to acts of forgiveness. But right now she is looking for tender loving care and I, in return, do not want to die on my own.

I close my eyes and lean deeper into the rocking chair.

My fingers run through her soft fur, teasing out satisfied sounds that vibrate into my own body. Perhaps if my uncle would possess a pet, he would do more good. I am sure of it.

The chair moves back and forth, rocking Tasia and me like a cradle. I actually never had a cradle. The first years of my life I have slept in a crate that was originally meant for gathering apples.

“I have never told this to anybody, but Orson had smelled nicely of apples, when I first met him,” I say, tears swinging in my voice. “His mother had been working in the Krennic orchard the entire morning, before she went to visit my fosters.”

Tasia does not answer, but I can tell by the movement of her ears that she is paying attention.

“He had been crying for hours. His cheeks had the colour of an Ambrosian apple. I am still smitten by him. Some things never changed between us.”

The Loth-cat does not answer directly, but starts to milk tread on my lap with her tail swinging around excitedly.

“I know you still do not like him, but please keep him company when I am gone.”

Tasia freezes.

There is a familiar sound outside.

My lids flatter open and I stare at my crono.

Exactly after one hour after Orson’s departure, a speeder bike has stopped in front of my property.

It is not Alexsandr Kallus though, but someone I would have never expected. Especially not here, in such a small settlement as Jhothal. I have seen the copper-skinned face on recent local holonet reports. It is Lothal’s newly minted head of state.

“Governor Azadi,” I call out, when I hurry out of my cottage to greet him. “What an honour! How may I serve you?”

“You are a hard person to find, Mistress Anil. I had to bribe a lot of people to get hold of you.” His blue eyes burn with an intensity that reminds me of Sheev. “But a qualified kindergarten teacher like you is a rare speciality.”

“Like a kyber crystal?” I joke, but the truth is that I want to test if the politician knows what he has right under his feet. The planet crust is full of them. They sing their songs to me, especially when I am asleep. Sheev must have known about the soothing effect they have on me.

“Kyber crystals?” Governor Azadi frowns. “They cannot be found in Lothal’s soil, believe me. Doonium veins are the rarest thing to find around here.”

“You are not here to talk with me about mining, are you?” I say as I open the gate for him.

“No indeed, Mistress Anil. I am actually here to hire you for my new day care centre,” he answers bluntly.

Astonished, I take the white haired giant with his weathered face in. I can not detect any lie.

“I want to keep my pre-election promises to my loyal voters. Especially, when it is up to educational matters. Lothal needs to invest in its youth, too. We have more to offer to the Empire than just mines and natural resources.” A charming smile flashes on like a spot light. “A person with your skills and know-how comes in handy. Your CV shows that you gathered a lot of teaching experience on the Core Worlds the past years.”

As much as I would like to believe in the governor’s devotion, something fishy is happening here. “I have sworn to myself never to work for a Day Care Centre again since...”

He holds up an impatient hand. “Kuat Drive Yards did not deserve a woman as bright as you.” I can tell that he is angry with them, not with me. “And Coruscant never should have let you go in the first place. But Capital City needs you very much. Its children need you. Duty calls.”

“What about my responsibilities around here in Jhothal?” I throw up my hands in despair and this gesture is not acted. “What about the crèche?”

His gaze does not leave my face. “I will handle the matter with greatest care, believe me. You do not need to worry, Mistress Anil.”

Even if Governor Azadi sets everything in motion, it is only a question of time until my uncle will find out about it. But I might enjoy it as long as it lasts. Therefore I start to suggest, “I would like to see the place before...”

“Oh of course,” he interrupts me. He is not a very patient man, but he seems not unkind either. “I could take you there right away.”

My eyes spot the spare helmet, that is attached to the speeder’s broad saddle. “What makes you think that I am coming with you on such a short notice?”

He winks at me. “I have seen your day’s schedule. You have the time.”

I roll my eyes at him. “That is cheap.”

His grin is so light that it almost hurts my eyes. “Perhaps you can at least offer some ideas for the children.”

********************************************************************

During my last night in his apartment Sheev has given me a sneak preview on his educational plans. Plans, I do not approve of. Like the majority of his plans to rule the known universe and stretch out his greedy hands to the Unknown Regions.

I give careful side glances to Governor Azadi, while we walk his day care centre together. There have been places like this on Coruscant for shift workers, but less friendly and radiant.

This place is open twenty-four hours a day, which means there are two shifts per day and seven days a week. Children whose parents are on night shift at the mine sleep here, which means he has night nurses working for him.

My heart is loud in my chest for I like what I have seen in so far – the mission statement, the room arrangements, the educational materials, the group sizes, the staff ratio.

“The children here matter a lot to you,” I voice. “Personally.”

“I am the son of miners, born into a family of miners.” Governor Azadi keeps his voice low, even though his humble beginnings are known even on Coruscant.

That background actually set him off from his competitors, gave him all the voices he needed.

But I am still digging in the dark, when it comes to his true character. There is more underneath the surface. Much more. So I make myself vulnerable and state, “My foster parents have a friend who was very much involved in the spice mining strike on the moons of Naboo. Kalzutan Opreka.”

He looks impressed. “The Union Chairperson.”

“The very one.”

“Pardon me for saying so, but Queen Jamilla did not show much wisdom back then.” His annoyance is palpable. “Putting refugees before spice mining products, especially kassoti, is foolish.”

“Yet, you defy the band-new Imperial Ministry of Education. For these children here.”

“Is that so?” His words are but a breath of air, well controlled though. He also guards his countenance well.

“The Emperor will not be pleased.”

“And you? What about you? A star pupil of Dalus Othona?” His gaze intensifies, shining through me like X ray beams. “A protégé of Mistress Shift?”

There are just a few things I can lie about. Education is not among them. The truth shines right through my happy eyes.

His smile is triumphant. “The Core is very far away from us right now. Sooner or later we will fall in line. Give Lothal the chance to recover from the wounds of the Clone Wars first. Then it will learn to embrace the chances the Empire brings with it.”

We stop in front of a classroom that has a big panorama window.

“Let me tell you something, Mistress Samye. Something personal, for you seem to need it from me.” His eagle sharp features become softer. _“T'is in the blood, my father would say. Mining is in the blood. Like a vein of doornium. T'is the bread of life. Eat, sleep, live and breath it. She's your salvation and your downfall. Make you reckless, make you bold. Many a friend it break. And many more will follow. T'is a fools game. T'will end in tears.”_

There it is, the fuel of his true ambitions. It what makes him the man he is.

Governor Azadi squares his shoulders. “The point is, I want those children here to lack of nothing. They will not have a rough start like I did. Of course my parents loved me. I am fully aware of this. But I want things different for them. Much more different.”

He is true to Lothal’s soil, to the people on it. Not to the regime.

“From my point of view individual attention matters,” Governor Azadi says unasked. “Besides, environmental motivators can either make or break you.”

Before I can say anything in return, he rushes to open a glass door for a human woman, dressed all in white and violet. Her head dress reminds me faintly of the montrals of a Togruta, who has not reached adolescence yet. She clutches on to a lively bundle.

“Mira!” the Governor exclaims, warmth in his gaze, while recognition of a different kind squeezes the air out of my lungs.

“This is outrageous, Ryder!” Concern, not hatred, is written all over the woman’s cooper face. “Ezra is barely a month old and I have have to enlist him for the crèche? Why is that?”

“Ephraim and you should be a good example for the local community. Your son was born on Empire Day.” There is regret in his deep voice. “If Pryce Mining...”

“Really?” She gives him a dark look, her mother instinct on fire. “This is about a petty war between two rival companies? Between this Arihnda woman and you? I am still breast feeding my son.”

The Force blends out my auditory perception, awakens different senses that I usually keep locked up inside me. I am basically pushed towards the baby boy.

A blue pair of eyes gazes at me.

In a galaxy full of trillions of beings I keep bumping into blue eyed Force sensitive individuals.

“Hallo, Ezra!” I say, but my lips are glued together while I do. It is my mind that is speaking.

Glee shines in his eyes, but something else, too. Potential. His choices will help shape the future of the galaxy that we live in. Children are our new hope. My uncle cannot wipe out every single one of them. Not even an Emperor gets away with child murder on this scale.

I can tell that his folk come from the first settlers, very religious and hard working people. Like Lor and his clan on Jedha.

“Please take care!” I beg him and friendly gurgling sounds back at me.

Ezra might be aware that there is evil around him and far beyond his reach, but he is one with the Living Force and relishes the small pleasures of his young life: the bonding with his mother, her milk and decent sleep. Plus fresh nappies.

_“Imperius Unitada ober Totallex”_ , I hear Governor Azadi say and turn my face towards him.

_“Empire united over all?”_ translates the woman called Mira. “What about the Republic? Of democracy? The holy scriptures of my people remind us about the Rule of Darkness. It happened in the days of the Elders, but it all might happen again.”

“What darkness? Palpatine brought back the light of truth after years of corruption and intrigues by the Jedi order.”

I know exactly, to what she is referring to, but I do not mean to interrupt them. Instead, I start wandering around on my own.

There is laughter and happiness everywhere. As if there has never been a war in the first place.

When I pause at a door, where a morning circle is going to be held, a Twi'lek woman with pinkish skin waves me in. “Please join us, Mistress Samye!”

The entire teaching staff seems to be informed about me. It could be worse. But it makes me sad that no one, but my new husband will ever call me Mistress San Tekka. It has such a nice sound to it.

“Who is the lady?” asks a charming gotal with orange eyes and yellowish fur. It seems to be a girl.

“Somebody who might be working here in future,” the kindergarten teacher beams. “As my boss.”

This revelation does not send bone deep fear into my body. There is another visitor. My stomach churns.

The children’s heads swing to the door like rubber bands.

“Wow, that is a cool storm trooper!” calls a Bardottan, bending his long, curved neck in awe. “He even has a cape.”

Cold sweat covers my entire body and I give my best not to faint.

The newcomer stares at me unwavering, at least I believe him to do so. His helmet, done like a skull, is black, with a highly polished finish. I suspect it’s woodoo hide. Sheev likes to use this material to polish his traditional Sith armour and ancient Sith droids with personally. It is an almost religious act for him, somewhat related to honouring the ancestors.

But I am not facing an ancestor or a droid. This thing breathes. Hard and laborious, but it does. This is worse than Grievous. Even worse than the beings I have witnessed on Korriban and Malachor.

The Twi'lek frowns, her lekku twitching in discomfort. But not for long. “Can I help you, sir?” she bravely offers the stranger.

“I am here on behalf of the Empire,” he offers with a voice that is modulated beyond recognition. It might have been human once. I am not sure yet.

“You are three days early,” the kindergarten teacher muses. “But well, the Ministry of Education and Learning used to be unconventional in the days of the Republic, too.”

He saunters closer. “Surprise is always the best method to test somebody’s efficiency.”

Her sweet smile is honest. “In that case, be very welcome, sir!”

The poor woman believes him to be an education inspector. She has no idea that he can easily rip her apart with the powers of his mind. My eyes wander towards a cylindrical item that it attached to his utility belt. If he chooses to light that sabre with its crimson blade, it will be a masacre. He can cut the children apart within a few heart beats. We are all at his mercy.

“Why don’t you sit down, my dear inspector?” I suggest and smile my brightest smile. “Please do join us on this promising day, where the future of the Empire is gathered!”

“Oh yes,” beams the Bardottan. “We are an Empire now. Not some boring Republic. Yeah! Palpatine rules.”

Whatever the Sith apprentice of my uncle truly had in mind is gone. His helmet makes a movement that is close to a self-ingrossed nod. Then his gloved hand closes around my offered fingers, without hurting them.

It pains him to sit down, but he does not show it. But I know the agony is there. It ebbs into my own bones.

After a while I forget about his brooding presence. I simply am and participate in the morning circle. There are songs that I know, others that I do not.

I laugh with the children. I sing and play with them, despite my old traumas that stirr in a dark corner of my mind. I can survive this meeting.

A certainty stays though.

If death has not come for me today, he will be around another day. The sacrifice has been offered. I only will know when it is accepted.

What makes me happy is that I am forming a tandem team with the other kindergarten teacher already. We pretend that all is normal. It is not difficult to like her. She has a pleasant and warm soul, that shines right out of her eyes. Plus she reminds me of Ahetnigac, my beloved foster sister. They even seem to be around the same age.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> A discussion in the JC 'Prequel Triology' started by ObiWanKnowsMe, with the brilliant find of Iron_lord, hinting to the website Holonet News Com  
> Plus a moving speech by the character Jud Paynter in Season 1, Episode 2 of the BBC series “Poldark” (2015)  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia 
> 
> Inspirational song for this chapter:  
> The score “Enter Kallus” for the cartoon series “Star Wars Rebels” composed by Kevin Kiner


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35:**

After the morning circle, I join the daily activities and get pretty immersed by that. I have a mighty shadow though. It follows me even outside to the play ground.

“Did he send you or are you here on your own initiative?” I ask the Sith lord in my wake.

He does not answer straight away. When he does, his voice is flat and seems to come from a place many light years away. “What makes you so special to him? Why are you allowed to live? Despite all you did.”

His questions show me that Sheev has no interest of enlightening him. I can imagine why that is, but I want to put my assumptions to the test. Taking a deep breath, I look up into his optical lenses. It seems that just for a brief moment human eyes appear behind them, but it might have been a trick of the light.

“Come, walk with me!” I suggest.

He follows in silence.

We reach a space, where no playing children are. Here we are also sheltered from the gazes of others.

“I hope you can take the bitter truth,” I smile. “It might change the views on your master forever more.”

“Leave that to me,” he gives back almost mechanically.

“Very well then.” I gaze into his masked face. “There once was a house maid, a bastard child. In secret, she had a daughter on her own. Her half-brother took pity, a totally new sentiment to a Palpatine.”

Before the Sith lord can stop me, I place my right hand on his chest. Right above the place where I suspect a human heart to beat.

“What ever other feelings exist in my uncle, I do not know. Killing Master Windu has changed him forever more. He is one with the dark side now.”

The tears flow like the Solleu River. My only weapon to protect me. Holy water, so to speak.

“I have no clue who you once were, into what a creature you have changed or what your future by his side is. Just be careful! The relationship between a Sith and his apprentice is not one forged by love and trust.”

He stands as still as a statue. Only his breath hints that he is alive.

More tears flow, because I cannot help it. My own bitterness about Sheev’s choices simply mix with sympathy for the stranger. “There will always be deceit and pain. Until you break the chains. But that is up to you. To nobody else.”

With that I lean my head against the broad chest, careful not to press any buttons of his life support system by accident. “You already lost a lot, I can tell that. I could ask you if it was worth the price, but only you can do so yourself.”

Laughing children, a human boy and a girl, run by in the distance. They are not aware of us, but we have full sight on them.

“I will not judge you and your actions,” I move on. “Just remember that power, unlimited power, does not come for free.”

“Does it not?” he bites back.

I shake my head and step away from him. “Read the old scripts of Darth Revan, who was a wanderer between the light and the darkness his entire existence long!”

“Revan,” he echoes.

Remembering Darth Malak, I dare to freely quote, “ _Saviour, conqueror, hero, villain. All things… and yet nothing. In the end, he belonged to neither the light nor the darkness. Like him you, milord will forever stand alone._ ”

My name sounds through the garden. It is Governor Azadi.

“Forget about ever having children on your own, you would corrupt them as well!” I start to cleaning my face with my right sleeve. “Forget about the faintest of friendship even! The dark side of the Force is an all consuming mistress and very jealous. I wish you all the best, milord. Whatever it is that you crave.”

I take my leave after bowing to him like a mere servant girl would in front of a Sith emperor.

“Do you not even want to know my name?” he asks sharply, somewhat offended.

Without turning around, I answer. “There is no need. Your deeds will make it known to me all to soon.”

I leave the Sith lord standing where he is. With renewed determination I seek out Governor Azadi. There is much to discuss about my terms of employment, the boy named Ezra included. He will not be snatched off his mother’s chest so easily. Not while I am around.

********************************************************************

When Orson returns to my cottage in the evening, he is in a bad temper. From the moment he enters, he starts ranting about Tarkin. I end up in a world of deception, spy stories and testosterone. So I decide not to bother him about my adventures or with the arrival of Lor, who is tucked up in my bed already. Instead, I play the perfect hostess, pull him tea and give him meat pie. At the right moments I smile or pause to listen to him with a concerned face.

Grumbling, Orson retreats into the living-room and closes the door behind him. A sure sign he wants to be on his own now.

There is a lot of cleaning to do, but the butterflies that stir inside me give me speed. After just twenty minutes, I hit the pillow with brushed teeth and wearing my favourite night gown.

“Mistress San Tekka, you look mighty fine,” my husband whispers and his long fingers start to explore my side of the bed.

Giggling as hushed as I can, I let Lor tease me.

He has had a rough time since we last saw one another. The former Jedi temple has become too well guarded for further looting. My uncle has made a construction site out of it. A side project that Orson never mentioned. I am disgusted.

“Imperial palace?” I get out.

My husband presses me against him. “Spare your anger for other occasions, Nagina.”

And he knows practices that help to stir my mind elsewhere. His bearded face soon is everywhere, leaving kisses.

All is well, until we hear noises from the hallway. Tasia has much more grace and Bathseba is hunting outside.

“I leave my socks on, okay?” Lor sniggers and grasps one of my pink morning robes.

When my bedroom door bangs open violently, my husband has already climbed out of the window. He will seek shelter at Old Jho’s place. For now.

Orson gasps like some dying person. Since my eyes are adjusted to the darkness in the room, I can tell that he is only in his pyjama breeches and shivers all over with anger. He clings on to his blaster pistol.

Of course he makes a tantrum, but after meeting the second Sith lord of the realm earlier on all fear has left me. When I think, that I have had my fill of curses and rants, I throw in, “Can we all go back to bed now?”

He sinks down the opposite wall in slow motion. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“You are doing this to yourself.” I place my head back on my pillow. “A closed door should remain a closed door.”

********************************************************************

When I find Officer Cadet Kallus in my kitchen the next morning, helping himself to my cookie jar, I let out a sigh. “Orson really took it very hard, did he not?”

There is humour in his eyes, but his face remains a smooth surface. “Today you are coming with me, milady. To my office!”

“For what? Questioning?”

He takes a considerate sip out of a mug, that contains hot chocolate. Then he produces an item, that I usually keep hidden between my panties. This lightsabre once belonged to no one else but Jocasta Nu, Lor’s old acquaintance.

My face goes crimson. “You had no right.”

“The whole house was full of such forbidden possessions,” he answers with a shrug. “More or less cleverly hidden.”

I try to hold on to the back of my wooden kitchen chair.

“This is what we will do.” There is a hardness in his voice that has not been there before. “We will take one of your smaller moving boxes, fill it with all the evidence and bring this one to my contemporary office in town. There you will file a complaint against the man who pushed all this stolen goods on you.”

“Why should I?”

“He will live if you do.” He gets up, reminding me how tall he is. “Commander Krennic asked me to deal with this. His patience is used up and he feared that he is too tempted to put you over his knee.”

“Pah!” I get out.

“I told him that there are better educational methods. Plus it comes in handy that one of the Imperial courtiers happens to be in town.”

********************************************************************

It is not a duel of strength. From my side it is more a matter of exhaustion. “You have no right to claim the contains of this box.”

The Sith lord does not twitch, just keeps staring at me in an unnerving manner. This he has been doing for exactly one hour. I bet that his lenses are equipped with a HUD that supplies him with data.

“Are you watching a HoloNet drama in there? Or do you read something more important than my face?” I accuse him.

He lowers his helmet a bit. “I can fully understand why a lot of people want you dead,” he leers with his computer voice.

Enough is enough.

I tear off my scarf, expose my bare throat to him. _“I am defenceless!”_ I call out. _“Take your weapon! Strike me down with all of your hatred and your journey towards the dark side will be complete!”_

The desk, that has served as a wall between us, gets thrust aside in slow motion. It smashes into the wall. Alexandre Kallus, who has left the room half an hour ago with some excuse, will not like the personal touch of his new interior designer.

“Enough!” the Sith lord booms. “You will give me the necessary information on your secret lover now.”

I spit right between his leather boots. “Come and get it! If you dare that is. For you are just the student, not the master yet. But I warn you, milord, I am not easily impressed.”

His breath goes like cold wind.

Cruelty curls in the corners of my mouth. “I have seen Sheev kill his own mother with no mercy. Her cerebral matter stuck everywhere. Force lightning was too good for her.”

The next thing that I know is that something sweeps me off my feet and end up dangling right in front of him. I twist and squirm.

“No, I will not harm you, but you will open up to me,” he muses.

“In some telepathical cultures this would count as rape.” I narrow my eyes. “But you do not care what others think of you.”

“No,” he answers matter-of-factly, while his gloved hands frame my face.

The touch of his mind is more gentle than I have expected it to be.

In one go I throw it all at him: each single memory and experience of mine until the day that I met Lor. He never comes to see my second husband’s face though.

Blood drips down my nose onto my lips, staining my teeth, but I keep throwing my past at him like fits full of sand.

The impact is too much for the Sith lord. Full cooperation was the last thing that he had expected. Flabbergasted, he drops me on the floor.

I manage to manipulate the closing mechanism of the door.

Screaming for help, I run down the corridor.

I am not followed.

The face of Officer Cadet Kallus is ashen, while he makes a beeline for me. “Milady, I never wanted that to happen. I was told a courtier was going to meet us, not a grim warrior in armour.”

I hold up a hand to stop him from coming too close. “Get me home now and on the way contact Doctor Robotham on Coruscant!”

********************************************************************

Orson confines me to bed with tranquillizers, which I take without any fight. While I let the effect kick in, he has a hushed com conversation with my former therapist. Later on, he and Alex have a huge fight.

At a point he comes into the bedroom and sits down at the edge of my mattress, taking my hand. “What has happened today, Ina?”

My lips are already stiffened by the medication, but I manage to say, “Dunno.”

Tears leak onto my skin. “You break my nerves! Who was the high ranking officer this der-brain contacted about the Jedi junk?”

“Dunno.” I repeat, a stupid grin on my face.

Suddenly, his mouth is near the shell of my left ear. “You silly beastie!” he sniffs. “How can I protect you when you are acting out like this?

His com bleeps almost angrily.

“Sheev,” I sigh.

“Not now!” His grip intensifies. “That blasted box was delivered back to you. With a ribbon in Tyrian purple around it. The note attached to it was barely readable. As if a dyslexic child had tried its utmost. It said...”

“Wha?” I press on.

“Yours, not mine.”

********************************************************************

My house arrest does not stop Lor from sneaking throughout the next weeks and keep my company at night. Nor does it keep Governor Azadi away from the property. The latter quarrels a lot with Orson, but to no avail.

When my first working day dawns, I am brought to a charming little cottage at the edge of the settlement.

“Average personnel count: one kindergarten teacher and four babies.” Orson cannot help but to look mightily pleased with the arrangements. “Tomorrow, you will start with one child and the rest will follow bit by bit.”

I raise an eyebrow at him. “And why the tether?”

His smile is forced. “Your ankle monitor simply shows me and my men where you are at all times. And it’s for your safety.”

I close the wooden door straight into his face.

“Ina, c'mon! There is no other way after what you have pulled!” he shouts through the door that is not thick enough to drown his words out.

“Why not a slave collar?” With a grim face I have to find out there there is no lock.

“Because I love you!” he claims.

I lean against the door, hoping my body can block him out for a while. “Next thing is that I find a weird scar on my shoulder or elsewhere on my body.”

“Nonsense. Your dignity is holy to me. A homing transponder will not get surgically implanted. I swear!” His voice sounds somewhat muffled now, as if he is kneeling. “Please let me in!”

“We will not open the door,” I mumble, thinking of an old fairy tale. _“You are not our mother. She has a soft and gentle voice, but your voice is rough. You are the wolf.”_

“What are you saying?”

I let my face sink into my hands. _“We will not open the door. Our mother does not have a black foot like you. You are the wolf.”_

Of course, he smashes a window to get in. But much, much later.

I am not happy to face him. Or to drown in his desperate embrace.

That night he takes me out to a fancy restaurant in Capital City, but I do not touch my drinks or my food.

When Lor hops over the window sill late at night, he has a basket with him. It contains a lot of goodies from Old Jho. But the best one is my husband himself.

********************************************************************

One morning Orson is gone without saying good-bye. There is reason for concern. Normally, he does his bed with military neatness. This time the living-room sofa is in complete disarray still.

“Something is up,” I tell myself.

The HoloNet news are not promising either. With a grave face the speaker announces, “The Graduation Night for the Raithal Academy has been disrupted by multiple explosions. The government is working to assess the damage. We have confirmation that the situation is under control. Sources close to the investigation report that Saw Gerrera, a notorious war criminal from Onderon, is implicated. We will keep you updated.”

Knowing how the Empire’s propaganda works, that translates to quiet a disaster.

I try to contact Sheev via his personal comlink, but to no avail.

Since there is nothing that I can do, I get ready for work.

Since nine months I just have two children in my group. Ahuva, a human girl that is barley 1,5 standard years old. And Jax, a Devaronian boy, not 1 standard year old yet. Both have helped me immensely to find my inner balance again. To just be the person that I mean to be.

“Tasia?” I call, once I step into the garden. But she does not appear.

I put her bowl of water on the threshold anyway.

Perhaps she is having a stroll with Bathseba.

A cold gust of wind makes me shiver and I hurry back into the cottage to get my cloak, but then I choose the one that Sheev left in my care. Seeing it, gives me some strange comfort.

I stroke over the smooth surface of the ancient Sith brooch and whisper a local children’s rhyme that comes into my mind, “Loth-rat, Loth-cat, Loth-wolf, run. Pick a path and all is done.”

I carefully lock the door and tug the key away in a side pocket of my cloak. Orson has a spare key and Lor, who can easily find ways into tombs and temples, has other means of getting inside.

From the corners of my eyes I catch a movement. Something white, but it is not Tasia. A strange animal snarls at me. “Are you…?” I ask, but when I step closer it is gone. Just a mirage, an illusion.

Perhaps Orson starts putting drugs into my food to keep me tame and manageable. Not that I want to accuse him of anything, but the animal that I just saw is extinct here on Lothal. Lot-wolfs are the stuff of legends.

My crono beeps.

Startled, I run towards the kindergarten.

Jhothal is strangely quiet this morning. Dark shapes, having the size of humanoids, seem to crawl around the houses.

At my arrival I find the kindergarten front door wide open.

Rebecca is always punctual with little Ahuva, but normally, both wait in the garden for me.

Frowning, I step into the building and get faced with the most dreadful sight straight away. The group room is but a mess. Toys, furniture and teaching materials are destroyed. But that is not the worst of it. In a far corner, where a wind chime is supposed to hang, my beloved Loth-Cat dangles from the ceiling. Her abdominal wall has been opened and her intestines have come out.

Sobbing, I sag down on my knees. “Oh, Tasia!”

A cold piece of steal is pressed against my throat.

My fingers cramp around the Sith brooch, drawing blood.

“Down with the Empire,” whispers a raucous voice behind me and cuts my windpipe.

Darkness catches me, forever more. Like a lover it encloses around me in a velvet embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> Words from the fairy tale “The wolf and the seven young kids” by The Brothers Grimm  
> A famous rhyme from the Star Wars series “Rebels”  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia


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